Courting Darkness
by Child of the Ashes
Summary: Inoue Orihime is hiding from a killer in the slums of Tokyo City after witnessing a terrible crime. Kurosaki Ichigo, once a master thief of the Tokyo underworld, has been called by an old friend to bring her back. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Courting Darkness

Disclaimer: I still do not own Bleach.

Warnings: Typos galore! Not historically accurate. Strong language (although I did try to tone it down some), a ridiculous number of sexual situations. Enjoy.

Chapter One

Tokyo City (Edo) – 1890

_Hichigo. _

The name slithered like a wraith through the twilight lit streets of the poorest districts of Tokyo City, spreading like a plague among the peasants huddled in the streets.

Hichigo was back from the dead.

From inside her small inn, Rukia surveyed her patrons while toying with the knife lodged in her sash. Something wasn't quite right. No one was fighting. The clientele here were made up of some of the worst ruffians the Tokyo underworld had ever seen. Usually, you couldn't even hear yourself think at this hour. Yet now, the place was quieter than a shrine and there was no sign of a squabble from any corner of the tavern.

She looked out over the faces.

A few of Gin Ichimaru's men sat drinking in a corner. Across from them a group of freelance samurai sang horribly out of tune. Near the door sat Loly and Menoly, bickering in hissed whispers. Keigo Asano sat counting coins and glancing at them from across the room while his companion Mizuiro Kojima watched him in disdain. In the back booth, Tia Halibel observed the occupants without interest, her flock of petty thieves surrounded her, none of them worth any note.

She frowned in confusion. Loly and Menoly were low class whores, but it was just past dark, there was still plenty of money to be made on the streets. They had come in early. She wondered why.

Rukia tilted her head, looking around again. No matter the individual, every one of them was careful not to be noticed watching the door.

And that was when it opened.

Fog floated in along the ground, candles flickered, and the conversation evaporated. Two figures emerged from the inky night outside…Renji Abarai and Ikkaku Madarame.

She held her breath as she realized the significance of the two of them being together. Rukia flicked her gaze out over the expectant women. They all looked like they were waiting on something. Every eye was on the newcomers.

Then it hit her, what every one of them was waiting for…

_Hichigo. _

She uttered the name like it was a curse.

"Yes?" A sinister voice answered from behind her.

Rukia yelped and spun around, trying to see through the opaque darkness she found there.

"H-Hichigo…?"Her voice trembled. "Hichigo?"

"I don't need help remembering my own name."

The whisper soft voice sent trickles of fear lancing down her spine. She licked her suddenly dry lips and swallowed, realizing her throat had also closed up. "You're back..."

She thought his eyes turned toward her.

"I really _hate_ it, when people feel the need to state the obvious. You know that."

He hadn't moved out of the shadows. It took Rukia a second to revive herself from letting him shake her up so soon.

There were people who said he was a demon.

Against the back wall, he stood tall and lean with the dim yellow light reflected off night dark eyes, shining on hair that was the color of hell's flame. They said he got his coloring from his mother and his disturbing intensity, the feeling of always being on the edge of violence, from his father.

Either way, he was something fierce and lethal, and never someone to be handled lightly.

And now, Rukia was left to question if he really was one of hell's spirits, because here he was… still all wickedness of countenance and viciousness of tongue, seething with dark humor. He was back after vanishing so long ago that everyone thought he was dead.

What else but a demon could do something like that?

She wiped moist hands on her apron, making sure to keep them well away from her knife. "Ichimaru's men are here. They say he wants you dead after—"

"I don't care about Ichimaru …unless I'm holding a blade to his throat _or_ he's holding one to mine."

He finally moved from the wall, and it was as if some magic enchanter had formed an incubus of seduction from the blackest abyss. Rukia's senses focused on him as he walked by. There was an almost magnetic pull that came from him… a charisma that could capture, master, and command all in the length of a breath. It was like her life flashing before her eyes, except with a destructive edge that was almost _inviting_. A person would be dead before they ever knew it and none the wiser.

Then he had passed and Rukia released her breath, cursing in frustration. _How long had she known him, dammit?_ How many times had he come to _her_inn? She had no business being turned into a senseless heap just because it was well known how good Hichigo was with a blade.

She watched him drift like a ghost into the room. His name whispered and spread until every eye was fixed to his figure. He slid into a chair by Renji. Loly and Menoly shoved each other back, both of them trying to reach his lap first. In the corner, Ichimaru's men stood up and crept into the back, vanishing.

A few hours later Hichigo untangled himself from the two women and made his way back to the kitchen.

Rukia watched him come toward her. "You want your room?"

He threw her a condescending look that she took as an affirmative.

"It's ready."

Without looking back, he strode through the kitchen to the back stairway. Two minutes later, Renji followed, taking care not to be seen. Then Ikkaku. And as soon as she was sure she wouldn't be missed, she followed after.

In a room at the end of the hall, around a corner that made it hard to see, Hichigo was sprawled on a bed, arms folded behind his head. His gaze locked on the rafters of the ceiling.

She walked in and shut the door behind her. The other two men looked up as she entered. Rukia crossed her arms over her chest and tried to appear undaunted. "Why are you here?"

He didn't even bother looking at her. "Kuchiki-san, subtle as _never.._. I've missed you, too."

"You're only here to make trouble for the rest of us, so I don't see any reason to fake happiness. Last time you were here, a lot of us died."

"They followed me for their own reasons."

Rukia banged a small fist down beside her on the door. "They went with you for the same reason we all do. You twist us… manipulate us, spin things around, until we don't know what's what. Then you use us. You're the worst kind of leader. You use us like you use that sword of yours—"

Hichigo sat up so swiftly that Rukia would have stumbled back if she hadn't already been against the door. He swung long legs off the bed and then he was in front of her, pinning her with an unnerving look. Then, he tilted his head to the side and smiled his trademark smile.

"Usefulness is a virtue." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "And since you stand to profit the most from this little venture, I would advise you to keep your complaints to yourself, or I might give you better reasons to hate me."

Rukia's palms began to sweat and she nodded, before registering that he had already turned away. _Stupid…Stupid. _She should have known not to mention the sword. The relationship he had with that thing, it was unnatural.

"There's money to make, lots of it."

Renji and Ikkaku exchanged glances.

Ikkaku answered. "More than last time?"

Hichigo smacked his bald head and used it to force his head up, grinning. "Much, much more."

He released him.

Renji shifted. "How much?"

Hichigo tilted his head. "A princess's ransom."

They watched him with surprise and confusion warring on their faces.

Rukia narrowed her eyes. "And what kind of work?"

Hichigo reclaimed his place on the bed and favored them all with a look of malicious benevolence. "Easy work. And I already told you, a ransom… for a lady. She's lost somewhere in the slums and all we have to do is find her."

His listeners looked at each other. It was Renji that spoke. "All we have to do is find some woman?"

"That's right."

Rukia shrugged. "If she's been gone for more than a day, she's either dead in a gutter or working in the red-light district."

In one smooth motion, he sat up and gave her a fierce grin. "Not this one."

"What? Why not this one?" Rukia demanded.

"Because. She's an old woman, plain, timid, frail." He waved a dismissive hand. "Count on it. We'll find her in some dark, quiet hole, quivering and whimpering."

Ikkaku snapped his fingers. "Hold up. I heard Ichimaru and his men were looking for some woman. You think this is her?"

"Not likely." Hichigo said. "What would he want with some old lady? He's probably looking for one of his bitches that took her pay without giving him his cut."

Rukia turned a suspicious gaze on the dark thief. "Are you sure about this?"

He gave her a nasty lopsided smile. "Mark my words, carefully. This is going to be easy."

()()()

Orihime Inoue scurried down a street nicknamed 'Cut-throat Road' carrying a basket of food. Being cautious not to be seen, she scurried down back alleys, around trash and wastewater. Coming to an intersection, she paused to search the night before deftly flitting across, silent as an apparition.

If it weren't for the dark, floor-length, hooded cloak and the care she took to maintain secrecy, she might have attracted a lot of attention. Because very few women on the streets of Tokyo City, appeared so starry-eyed, almost as if seeing a dream in the waking world, just out of the sight of everyone else.

Fewer still, wore layers of expensive silken kimonos.

If she hadn't been wearing a cloak, her hair would have caught people's interest, the deepest auburn, streaked with gold and burnt orange. Or her eyes, bright and sparkling gray, with the barest hint of a teal ring around their edge. And If she hadn't been hiding in the shadows, they might have noticed her delicate feminine posture and the way it made her seem small and fragile.

No one would have expected what came next.

Coming to a dead end, she sat her basket down and tied the bottom layers of her kimono into her obi, knotting them until her legs were exposed to mid-thigh. She reached down, plucked up her basket and began climbing the bamboo rigging on the side of a building.

The excursion to the rooftops of Tokyo wasn't nearly as intimidating as it had been the first time, when she had just run away. Not that she had _meant_ to run away, but she supposed that was what someone did when they witnessed a murder. Especially, when they were in danger of being next.

It had been during the time she was visiting the orphan children in the Rukongai district that it had happened. Orihime had been walking back from the market stalls with Ururu and Jinta. She had heard a noise in a back alley, not something that was uncommon in the slums, but she was curious … and stupid.

Three people had been in the passageway, two men and a woman. That alone should have told her what was going on, but she had been raised in a privileged home without knowledge of street activity. She watched in morbid fascination as one of the men raised a wakizashi, then the woman's face was twisting. Orihime had to bite the flesh of her hand to keep silent as the sword plunged down.

She froze on the rooftop, once again seeing the agony in the woman's face. Orihime squeezed her eyes shut trying to block out the memories, but behind her lids, she was confronted with the face of the other man.

A man she had never thought she would see in the broken down hovels of Tokyo.

She heard his lightly spoken words, unspeakably cruel in their nonchalance. She heard the deep timbre of that kindly voice, the one she had admired so many times before.

"Do it, Gin."

The words flashed through her head like an echo, like a gunshot.

_Why hadn't she just left?_

If she had, she would have never seen him give the order to kill. She would have never seen how he watched it with a pleased expression, like an artist gazing at a beloved painting. If she had just left, she wouldn't be worried about her aunt, sitting alone in her sprawling mansion, not knowing what had become of her beloved niece.

She shook her head, trying to clear the ugly memories, because thinking about it wasn't doing any good, it would only distract her. She couldn't afford to be distracted now.

Orihime sized up a beam running across to the next roof before gracefully springing across it. Then, she was on to the next. She had to jump, but after countless nights of vaulting from building to building like this, she had become quite skilled. It was fun even, once she really got going, as long as she wasn't careless enough to tumble over the side. That had only happened once, but she hadn't forgotten it.

Coming up on a harder jump, she paused at the edge to measure the distance and gasped when she saw movement below her.

Down in the alley a foot to her right was Yammy, one of Gin Ichimaru's men, one of many that would like to get their hands on her. They had seen her that night. They had chased her, Jinta, and Ururu through the streets.

Ururu and Jinta were urchins, living life on the street they were used to navigating the slums. They knew every shortcut and back alley. The men chasing them had never had a chance, but now, they had sent their hired thugs to find her… and Yammy was one of the worst.

She shrank back from the edge.

Setting her basket down, she looked over the roof. It was a good roof, made of heavy ceramic tiles. She knelt down and gently wiggled each in turn, until she found a loose one. Taking care not to make noise, she pried it free, suppressing a gasp as it bit into her hand.

Orihime glanced back over the edge and froze, catching movement out of the corner of her eye. She spun, looking hard into the shadows of the roof, but after a moment decided she must have imagined it. Turning back she hefted the tile over her head and aimed.

It hit him dead on and he dropped to his knees, without as much as a shout.

Nodding to herself, Orihime climbed to her feet and dusted her hands, before picking up her basket. Taking a few steps back and measuring the distance, she bent her knees, ran and lept.

It took her a few seconds to realize that she hadn't gone anywhere. Something had snaked around her waist and pulled her back.

Orihime was whipped around before being sat on her feet, but in her panic, she stumbled backwards, tripping on the empty space where she had pried up the tile. She landed gracelessly on her backside, knocking down the hood of her cloak, wrestling with the layers of her kimono and trying to get back to her feet.

Part of her mind registered that her front was still tucked up, leaving her legs exposed to her upper thighs, but she didn't have time to worry about lost modesty.

Scrambling to her feet she backed away from the dark figure standing over her.

"Don't…don't you come near me."

If she had ever imagined the laughter of a demon, it might have sounded something like what she heard. It was all mockery, smooth, sensual, _evil_. It was the laughter of a fallen angel.

Fear wrapped around her body like a sheet of ice.

He took a step closer, close enough that she could see him in the pale light of the moon. His lips curved into a smile of little boy sweetness that might have given her relief, until she looked up into his eyes. It was like being pulled into a dark sea, merciless, cold, trying to drag her under.

That was when she knew she was going to die.

His arm reached up and over to his side, and she noticed the ebon black katana strapped at his back. She faltered another step, but he only reached into his clothes and pulled out a folded paper.

He looked at it, then at her and scowled.

Then his expression changed again and his smile turned fierce.

"Well, if it isn't the old lady, at last..."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Courting Darkness

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.

**I really was not expecting this to get that big of a response… Thank you so much!**

**I might have gotten Orihime a little OOC in this, but I was just thinking that for once, I'd like to see her get a little bit feisty… I mean, **_**sometimes**_** Tite gives her a little bit of an edge, but between you and me, I think he could take it just a step further. Not much, mind you… but just a pinch.**

Chapter Two

Orihime stared at the man in front of her, certain that she had never seen him before. She would have remembered him. He seemed to carry an air of amused menace and his eyes held a wicked spark. He stood with a careless grace that belied the speed and agility of his movements.

And she was _sure_ she would have remembered him, because he was clean.

Someone with such a dark and sinister presence had to be evil, or at least perversely depraved, but never the less, he wore clothing of excellent cut and quality. Not the attire of commoners and peasants she had seen on all the others since coming here, and the oddity of that struck her.

She glanced again at the sword on his back and the fine detail of the hilt. If she wasn't so afraid of it, she might have thought it beautiful.

Orihime swallowed. No. She was sure she would have remembered him.

His hair was long in front, long enough that when he tilted his head down, like he was now, he was looking up at her through strands of orange locks. The gesture should have made him seem playful, but the light glittering in his eyes only made it disturbing instead.

Orihime captured all of this in a moment.

He was still smiling at her and something clicked in her head. Old lady? What old lady?

She frowned.

Ever since she had been forced to come live in the slums, Orihime had been discovering all sorts of things about herself. One of these things was that she had very little use for all of the etiquette and good manners relentlessly drilled into her as a child. The second thing she had learned was that she really didn't miss it.

The man in front of her continued to smile. "You don't look anything like the ugly picture they gave me."

She blinked then wrinkled her nose. "Is that a compliment?"

Orihime straightened, waiting for him to reply, but after a minute she realized that his gaze had shifted lower. She glanced down to see her kimono still some-what tied into her sash, exposing one slender and well-formed thigh all the way to her hip.

Orihime looked back to see that he had done the same. He was doing that thing again, where his head was down, but he was looking up at her. Something between lust and violence sparked in his eyes, and whatever it was provoked an odd response in her. For an instant, she didn't feel frightened at all, only drawn to him. Excitement flitted through her belly.

Then he smiled again, almost as if he _knew_ what she was feeling.

She sucked in a breath. He had given her that look _deliberately. _

This new vulnerability shocked Orihime and sent her into a panic. Without thinking, she spun around and ran, racing across the roof with a speed born of pure fright. She heard the orange haired man utter a string of curses so offensive that she almost stumbled over her own feet. Orihime increased her speed as she neared a ledge, leaping the gap to the next roof.

She heard the light scuff of footfalls behind her.

He was already after her. She knew without turning that he would be far too fast for her simply to outrun. The uneven roof tops gave her some protection as she knew them well by now, and she had always been light of foot. She ducked behind the edge of a building and slid into a crack between two walls, trying to slip through to the other side. It was very narrow, with just enough room for her small frame.

Or so she had thought.

Her breasts lodged in the constricted space halfway through, and she had to wrench herself the rest of the way out. She had just pulled free when she heard the grate of a foot on the other side.

Orihime looked up to once again meet the eyes of the orange haired man, only this time, he didn't look nearly so amused. He watched her with the narrowed eyes of a predator.

There was no way he could fit between the buildings. The only way to get around would be to go all the way over the roof. She saw him size up the situation, coming to the same conclusion. On an impulse, she smiled, trying to return his earlier mocking look.

Orihime realized her mistake too late.

Instead of becoming frustrated, he seemed to take it as a challenge. He lept, quick as a cat, scaling the side of the wall like an expert.

With a gasp, she bolted and jumped to a rooftop an entire floor below the one she had been on. Orihime landed with a harsh impact, forcing herself up around the burning pain of muscles in her legs and climbed down the side of the building, half sliding, half jumping, until she reached the ground. Then she ducked into the deepest shadows she could find and waited.

A few seconds later, before her breath had even calmed, she saw a vague shift in the light that told her someone was above her. She held her breath, ignoring the screaming of her lungs.

It was like a shadow dropped from the sky, not ten feet from where she was standing. And even though he was so close, she heard nothing of his landing. He stood tall and motionless, listening. A scowl played over his features before he turned away, and in the time it took her to blink once, he was gone.

Orihime shuddered. That he could accomplish such a thing scared her more than being chased. He could be on her before she had any warning.

She began to tremble with a combination of fear and the after adrenaline of her flight, and had to talk sternly to herself. This was no time to be losing her courage. She waited a few more minutes before leaving her dark corner. She took care to go the same way she thought that her pursuer had, so that he wouldn't be behind her and slowly circled around the streets, making her way back to the old abandoned room she shared with Ururu and Jinta without further sight of her frightening new assailant.

()()()

Over the next few days, Orihime saw no trace of her usual hunters or the orange haired man from the other night. She kept herself busy with menial tasks around the small room, cooking and cleaning for the two younger children, which somehow managed to scratch a living for themselves on the streets.

It was three nights later when she left the relative safety of the dilapidated building, heading to the fish merchants to get their dinner. Orihime wondered the streets thinking about her unfortunate aunt that had no news of where she was or what had become of her. Aunt Matsumoto had probably given up on her, thinking she was dead.

She thought of her own parents at their family estate.

Her father was a notorious drunk that had fretted away their family fortune on alcohol and gambling, and her mother often entertained in the capacity of courtesan to other gentlemen of title and wealth, trying to keep her fancy dress and frivolous spending. It had been tolerable for Orihime when she had her brother, but after his death there was no shelter from her parent's madness.

That was when her aunt had offered her a place in her house, a place far away from her father and the lenders that had threatened to make Orihime work off his debt in a brothel.

She was sure that her aunt would be looking for her, but there was no way she could return carrying such a dangerous secret. It would only serve to put the people she loved at risk, and she just wasn't willing to do that.

She tugged her cloak closer around her face as she entered the market.

There was usually a sweet old man with a tuff of fluffy white hair that gave her a fair price on his fish. Orihime had instantly taken a liking to him and had promised bring her business only to his stall.

It was as she looked for his familiar boney shape around the hustle of the market, that she nearly ran into a tall man with bright red hair headed in the opposite direction. She swerved to avoid an embarrassing collision, when she felt a hand on her wrist. Spinning around, she came face to face the same man.

Blinking, Orihime had a moment to take in his face and tattoos before realizing her predicament. This man was obviously yakuza. A paid killer. She tried to jerk her hand free and when she couldn't, she began to look around for help. A crowd of people milled around them, some throwing quick glances her direction, but all of them walking away quickly. No one would dare speak out against a yakuza thug.

"Caught 'cha... Sorry, but you're coming with me."

Orihime struggled backward as he tugged at her wrist. "L-Let go."

"No chance. You're worth too much." Then to her horror, he called over his shoulder into the crowd. "Hey, Hichigo, I got 'er."

A man emerged from the throng of people hurrying to get away. He wore an immaculate black suit that seemed out of place among the poor denizens of the street market. Orihime's eyes became big as she recognized the familiar orange haired ruffian.

"Oh, Kami-sama…" Her fear gave her strength. She picked up the nearest and largest fish by the tail, swinging it around and hitting the yakuza thug square in the face.

The connection between face and fish was solid, and he went tumbling back, wildly flailing into a man carrying a basket of clams. The fish merchant in turn fell into the one called Hichigo, and they collapsed in a pile of tangled limbs and curses.

Orihime fled, not daring to look behind her as she ran around tables and out of the market. Breaking free of the crowds, she began to run flat out. She wasn't sure where she was going and that scared her. This wasn't the district she was familiar with. They would catch her and throw her in the river! They would tie her up so that she couldn't swim, so that she couldn't save herself… They would gag her…

She tried to run faster, but she couldn't. Her lungs were already burning, and a cramp was hitching up her side. Looking around, she took in the abandoned storage houses as she raced down streets and through alleys. Her mind spun from fear and exhaustion.

She had no idea where she was.

When she could no longer go any further, she ducked into a doorway, placing her back to the heavy flaps that covered the entrance.

While she had run, the night had become black. Clouds liberally dotted the sky, obscuring the moon from view and darkening the streets even more. She hoped it would be enough to hide her.

She pressed herself back further as she heard footsteps coming her way. A man came into view, stumbling and carrying a bottle. He took a swig as he wove by, and Orihime watched him carefully, ready to flee if he suddenly came at her.

But he didn't, and she heaved a sigh of relief as the cloth at her back was brushed aside.

Arms grabbed her, hulling her back with impressive strength that was every bit as frightening as being bound with ropes and drowned. A hand covered her mouth before she could gather her wits enough to scream.

She kicked hard, striking out in blind panic and provoking a soft curse. For some reason that inspired her, so she kept kicking until she heard an amused voice over her head.

"Didn't you turn out to be a sly and deceitful little creature… but if you kick me again, I'll make sure you wish you hadn't."

Orihime stopped kicking. She could feel his fingers dragging against her rib bones where he held her.

"Little one, that sketch didn't do you justice."

()()()

He hadn't expected this at all. Hichigo tightened his hold on the girl in his arms while he waited for Renji and Ikkaku.

He'd been asked to find a Lady, frightened and lost in the streets of Tokyo, or at the very least, discover what had happened to her. And it should have been easy, a get-in-get-out job. Instead, he'd ended up chasing a surprisingly cunning young girl all over the city streets.

_And_ she had gotten away from him _twice_.

Nobody got away from Hichigo. He could just imagine what the thugs at Rukia's would say, if they ever found out that a spoiled brat from the money side of town had led him on a wild goose chase across the rooftops of Rukongai.

His captive struggled and he hissed through his teeth. She _was not_ the old woman he had been led to believe, and feeling her pressed and squirming against him, scraped across his desire like a file against glass.

_And damn it, where was Renji and Ikkaku?_

It was getting harder to hold her quiet without threat of suffocation.

She struggled again, and a spike of sensation shot through his body, leaving an unsatisfied heat in its wake.

"Fuck."

She stilled, tilting her head back to look at him in what he assumed was a disapproving manner. He raised an eyebrow at her and watched as she colored. It took him a second to realize he was staring.

He spat another curse.

Damn her. She was the reason that he was back in a place he had never thought to see again. And now she had the audacity to stand there, looking at him with those big, innocent eyes, teasing him more proficiently than a skilled and talented whore.

It was just as he was wondering what to do about it that a carriage pulled up, and a bald headed man lept out and opened the door. Hichigo swept his captive up and into it without a word, and it began moving down the street. He threatened her with all manner of grievous punishments if she even tried to speak, and lapsed into an ill-humored silence that lasted until they reached Rukia's inn.

When they arrived, he bundled her into his room and locked the door. Then, remembering that she had a talent for climbing, he ordered her window barred from the outside.

Downstairs, he watched Renji tend to a large bruise on his face, while he spent the better part of an hour trying to calm his body's baser instincts. He _didn't_ want her. She irritated him, causing all this trouble and bringing him back here. He needed to get rid of her.

In front of him, Rukia appeared with her arms crossed over her chest. "I told you, I didn't want trouble. What's that girl doing here?"

"Don't get yourself worked up about it." Hichigo snapped. "She'll be gone before you know it."

Standing, he turned his back on her, sweeping up the stairs and into the room where his hostage waited.

As he shut the door, a china bowl sailed at him, which he barely managed to avoid. Rising, he nearly missed ducking around the candle holder that came at him next. He panicked at the sight of a heavy ceramic pitcher and tackled her before she could get a proper aim. It fell from her grasp to the floor with a heavy thud.

She gasped as he knocked her onto the bed and fell on top of her.

He registered the sound of running footsteps, but was too busy avoiding scratching nails and kicking feet, to pay any attention. The girl landed a slashing blow to his neck.

He growled.

"Hichigo?"

Grabbing her wrists, he looked over his shoulder at Ikkaku and Rukia, while his captive tried to kick him shitless. "Damn it, get out! Ikkaku, lock the door and wait."

With the door shut, he closed his eyes. Underneath him, the girl was writhing and thrusting her body against him in an attempt to shove him off. Clenching his jaw, he hissed at her, reaching the end of his patience.

"Stop it! Just fucking stop it! You're either perfectly, completely mad, or you're desperate to get fucked."

The struggling ceased instantly.

He counted to twenty before he looked at her again. She was staring up at him with wide eyes. Her hair formed an aura of red gold around her face, and from this close, he could make out the different shades.

It was to first time he had gotten a good look at her.

Heavy dark lashes framed mirror bright eyes, and as she panted, her breath puffed out from between softly parted pink lips. Every time it did, her chest rose up, pushing against his.

Keeping hold of her wrists, he pushed up onto his elbows, just enough so that he could keep his sanity. He looked at her again.

The sketch he had been given must have been awful, because not only was she not an old woman, but she was strikingly beautiful. If he was going to rate her on a scale, he would have to say that she was quite possibly one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

Too bad he didn't like her.

He blinked then growled at the source of his frustration. "Are you finished?"

She looked at him.

"I-I won't throw anything else at you… if that's what you mean."

Hichigo got up and discovering that he wasn't presentable, and turned away while he fought to get himself back under control. When he turned to face her again, she had put the bed between them and was picking a set of blue hair pins off of the blankets. She stopped at his movement, her hands clenched on the pins as if she might use them as a weapon, if he decided to come at her again.

"I never heard of a lady that would rather spend her time in the slums than in her safe and pampered birdcage."

She wrinkled her forehead. "What are you talking about?"

He huffed. "Never mind... You're Lady Orihime Inoue, and I don't care why you're here, I'm taking you back to your aunt's place, so you can stop throwing shit at me."

The alleged Lady Inoue bit her lip in concentration, appearing at a loss. Then she brightened. "Oh... I guess Ichimaru wants me questioned before he kills me." She lifted and dropped elegant shoulders. "Or his master does."

Hichigo didn't think she was properly frightened, considering her own words, before he realized the name she had just spoken and scowled.

"Ichimaru?"

His mind went blank. That name meant more to him than she could possibly know. He tossed aside his hatred as he realized something he might have noted sooner, if he hadn't been distracted by pink mouths and multicolored hair and all manner of flying objects.

"You're not lost, you're hiding. From Ichimaru Gin."

She blinked. "You're quite good at that, but it won't work. I won't fall for your tricks."

"What?" He snapped. "What tricks?"

"I'm not so simple minded that I would trust you easily and tell you what you want to know." She straightened her back and lifted her chin, and the change was remarkable. Somehow she had acquired an air of nobility, which held no reliance on luxurious clothing or palatial surroundings. It was a mark of authority that spoke of lineage and generations, but more importantly, it spoke of integrity of spirit. "I won't tell you anything. Not when people are counting on me."

A moment later his brain started functioning again. "You were hiding from Ichimaru… and you think I work for him?"

She nodded.

He came up short. "Why?"

"Isn't that obvious, Hichigo-san? You-"

He cut her off. "It's not Hichigo-san. It's Hichigo."

She frowned at him. "In polite society, an unmarried woman does not address a man so familiarly."

"Well, you're nowhere near polite society, but I'm going to fix that."

"You already know I can't go back to my aunt's."

"Why not?"

"Because I would be dead by sunrise."

She said it so simply and without emphasis, that he believed her. She had been running for her life ever since she had vanished. If he took her home, she would be killed.

He rubbed at the tension forming in his forehead. "Fuck me."

Orihime's eyes widened at his words.

He grinned at her. "Now, don't go putting thoughts in my head, or you'll get all those punishments I promised you…And no, don't say anything, I'm thinking." He walked an aimless circle before coming back to her. "You'll just have to go somewhere else."

"You're taking me to Ichimaru?"

"What the hell, woman... How is he even in this?"

"How can he not be?"

He gave her a narrow-eyed glare, just in case she was being ingenious. "You don't know what he is, _Inoue-sama_… Whatever you've seen so far is nothing, _nothing_ compared to what he can do if pushed."

"You seem to know him well."

He blinked at her suspicious tone. Then he shook his head.

"Stupid girl, what have you gotten yourself into? I didn't bring you here in secret, you know."

He shook his head again and strode to the door. "Ikkaku, tell Renji to get the carriage ready. And Ichimaru's in this, so watch yourself. Let Rukia know we're leaving, she should be pleased."

From the other side of the door came a string of foul curses.

Hichigo came back to stand by the bed, thinking hard about what the next few hours would entail. When he looked back at Lady Inoue, she had her blue hair pins back in her hair. He almost smiled at how it made her look like a little girl playing dress up.

"Hichigo-san, I will pay you to let me go."

His good humor dried up. To his surprise, he was actually offended.

He scoffed. "You think you have enough money to pay me?"

"Not… not on me, but I do have money."

He tilted his head. "What about those parents of yours? They're titled, lands and everything. Why don't you get it from them?"

"My parents are tied up financially. You couldn't know how much it costs to run an estate with farm lands and livestock."

Hichigo narrowed his eyes.

"Wait. Your family owns all that, and yet you're stuck living off the charity of this aunt of yours?"

Her eyes grew strained in a way he hadn't seen yet. "I don't have any desire to tell you all the details of my family's situation. Do we have a deal?"

"No."

Inoue's face fell. "But, it would be a lot of money…"

"How much?"

"Three hundred gold coins."

He snorted. "Not even close."

"B-but that's my entire independence… You never intended to accept!"

"Just curious what you could afford, now I know one of those details of your family's situation that you wanted to hide from me so bad."

She yelped in shock and frustration, and then all of her careful dignity shattered. She grabbed the pitcher from where it had fallen on the floor and launched it at his head. It shattered on the wall and a shard bit into his left cheek. He choked out a curse and called for the door, a second later it opened.

Hichigo slammed it shut behind him and as soon as the noise cleared, he yelled through the door. "You're getting awfully close to all those punishments I promised you. Think of how uncomfortable a trip this will be, if you can't walk."

He listened for a response, but all he detected was shocked, maidenly silence.

N/A

Hmm… some of that was pretty dirty.

Too far…?


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Courting Darkness

**Well, I'm not sure what to say... I guess I won't be dropping this, after all. Or at least, not if I don't want to be hunted down and killed in my sleep.**

**Hmm….Thought provoking.**

**But in all dead seriousness, Thanks guys! I most definitely wouldn't be getting done so soon without all the wonderful support I've been getting. In fact, I was supposed to updating Tainting, but I guess I'm just a sucker for trying to please people. **

**Yes, I am **_**that**_** lame. **

Chapter Three

Orihime's eyelids felt heavy. She had scooted as far away from the man Hichigo as the interior of the carriage would allow, determined to maintain constant vigilance.

No matter what he said, she was sure she was being taken to her death and had decided to jump from their vehicle. They were traveling at an ungodly pace, and she was sure to injure herself, but she couldn't just go willingly. She had read enough books to know what happened in a villain's lair. They would take her and torture her with all sorts of frightening devices. Cages with spikes that impaled you when closed, or being torn apart by wild horses, or they might drip water between her eyes like the Chinese, until she went mad.

If Ichimaru were to torture and question her, she didn't trust herself to stand up to it. Her only option was to escape, but just as she had prepared herself to fling open the door, her orange haired captor grabbed her wrist and pushed her back down.

She gasped and he gave her an irritated look.

"Stupid girl… You'd break your neck."

That had been her last opportunity, because from then on out, he kept a firm hold on her wrist.

And now, she was having a terrible time holding her eyes open. The journey was a long one, with a warm body beside her and the exhaustion of constant fear as company. She fought to stay awake. Then she realized that they were circling back, just as she had been taught to do and her eyes closed as she contemplated the irony of them knowing the same tricks.

As the dark of sleepiness closed in on her, the hooves of the horses and the clatter of the road fell away. It was replaced by a haunting melody from a flute and samisen, played by women in white paint.

Orihime wound between the sakura trees in her aunt's garden, watching their blooms tumble and dance on the wind.

The spring festival turnout was better than expected, lords and ladies milled around in their fine clothing, eager to show off their wealth. When she walked by, they did not acknowledge her more than was necessary, but she had long since grown accustomed to this, and pretended not to notice. Instead, she headed towards the outskirts, where the trees were thickest. She held her breath as petals circled and pirouetted under the canopy of branches, like light reflecting off crystal chandeliers.

Drifting away from the crowds to walk alone, Orihime spun around when a light hand fell on her shoulder. She recognized the man immediately. Aunt Matsumoto had once seen him favor her with a smile, and had taken care to always invite him after that.

Her parent's scandalous lifestyle had marked Orihime as untouchable, and although she was still quite young, it was unlikely she would be able to attract an advantageous marriage offer. Still, her aunt was less than subtle with her matchmaking, and Orihime always felt an odd mix of gratefulness and embarrassment upon seeing him.

She blinked up at the man when he offered her his hand.

Surely, he knew that it was inappropriate, but hidden amid a blizzard of snowy white petals Orihime could no longer make out the delicate figures of the nobility. Smiling a conspirator's smile, she took the offer and allowed him to pull her into a dance.

He twirled her around to the music and she found herself hypnotized by amused brown eyes. From some corner of the garden, she could hear her aunt's golden laughter. The woman was said to be more beautiful than even the fairest geisha. When she laughed, heads turned, men stared, women bristled.

She thought they must be very far away now.

More petals fell, obscuring her view, making it difficult to see more than a few feet.

The whirling was making her dizzy, and all she could see was the face of the smiling man in front of her. Soon that disappeared as well. Flowers blew against her face, scraping like fingernails. They cascaded in waist high drifts around her and she was drowning, lost in a sea of white. She could feel the warmth of blood flowing down her cheeks like tears.

Orihime jerked awake.

They had stopped.

With her head fuzzy from the feelings of suffocation in her dream, she struggled to pull herself free from the sticky web of confusion.

Hichigo had climbed out of the cab and stood looking at her with an outstretched hand. She blinked at him, too muddled and disoriented to do anything else. He sighed and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her out before dropping her unceremoniously on her feet and shoving her ahead.

Orihime glanced around at the dim, grey courtyard of some great, deserted house. Seeing expensive timber and the curved roof, she hesitated. This was clearly the residence of someone of influence and wealth, but certainly not the one she had been expecting. That person's house, although large, did not have intricately carved pillars or a magnificent central enclosure.

"Go on."

She turned on him. "You… you broke into this house."

Hichigo merely raised an eyebrow at her, before pushing her forward again.

Traveling through a series of halls and chambers, she looked around with wide eyes, not sure what she had been expecting. When she came around a corner, a large man stepped out and scared her so badly, she tumbled back into Hichigo.

He ignored her, speaking to the newcomer instead. "Chad. Is everything ready?"

"Yes, sir. Please follow me."

Orihime was half escorted, half shoved after their host. This new man was a surprise to her. He was tall, with a prominent set to his shoulders, and had a mane of brown hair that fell thickly over his face. She had spent her life in places like this, and there was only one individual that could carry themselves in such a certain and assured manner. This Chad person was the butler and Hichigo had bribed him.

She frowned, forgetting for a moment how much danger she was in. Why would he take her to a place like this? It couldn't be to murder her, he wouldn't need a butler for that, at least she didn't think. She wasn't an expert on murder, but in her personal experience witnesses seemed to be undesirable.

The further they went the more confused she became. They finally drew to a stop outside of a large and intricate screen door.

"I prepared everything you asked for."

"Thanks, Chad."

Orihime turned to stare at him. In the short time that she had known him, she had never heard him speak so politely and without concealed motive. When he pushed her through the door, she realized that his civility was limited only to the butler.

"Bathe and change." He snapped. "I hope you can do it yourself, there aren't any maids around here. And don't take too long or I'll come get you…"

He let the sentence hang and she realized his hidden threat.

Sliding the door shut in her face, she heard him turn a lock. Orihime gaped at the place where he had been.

Then all at once she burst into motion. She ran to the window, only to see very solid wooden bars across it. Frowning, she ran into the adjoining room and checked the one there as well. Also barred.

Orihime sank to the floor and pounded her clenched fist down in frustration. After working through her new found fear and disheartenment, she looked around and was once again surprised. Not only was the room free of dust, but it looked as if some great lady was in residence. It even boasted large modern furniture, complete with gilt edgings and upholstery.

She rose and walked over to a folding screen, where a set of kimonos lay in heavy silk and bright colors. Reaching out, she fingered an intricately stitched flower and gasped when it shone a faint gold. Even her most expensive clothes were nowhere near this fine.

Taking a step back, she looked to her left to see another lit room. Inside was a private bath, already prepared. Steam rose from the water and a basket of soaps and perfumes sat on the edge. She glanced between the bath and the clothes that she had found.

Her gaze drifted back to the water. She felt filthy and she hadn't had a real bath and such a long time. Not to mention her arms and legs were sore from running and struggling with that Hichigo.

Orihime paused.

What if he came in while she was bathing? Orihime looked at the door as if she expected him to come walking through it at that very moment. She frowned and turned back to the bath. Well, if she was going to die, then she was going to die clean.

The bath felt as good as it looked and although she would have liked to stay in it longer, she hurried to get finished with Hichigo's threats still fresh on her mind. As she soaped and rinsed, her mind drifted from thoughts of death and murder. When the bath water became cold, she shook herself, realizing that she had let her mind drift too far and hadn't been fast like she intended. She washed her hair and left the bath.

The cool silk of the lavish clothes glided against her freshly washed skin, sending delightful shivers down her spine. She vowed to herself that if she lived, she would find the owner and repay them.

Running a comb through her hair, she looked at her reflection. Not having maids wasn't a problem, she had often made due on her own, when living with her parents. Orihime was quite skilled at doing her own hair even, a fact that had been highly praised by her brother. Twisting her hair into a simple yet elaborate looking coiffure, she secured it with her pins, before turning to her old clothes.

She removed a small book from the lining of her traveling cloak and ran her fingers over it before hiding it in the folds of her clothing. The book was her most precious of possessions and had once belonged to her brother. It was quite valuable and she had taken it from her father's library after her brother had passed on. Maybe she had no right to take it, but she thought that he would have wanted her to have it. It was a small manuscript of sutras, easily over a hundred years old and hand written. The cover was set with precious stone.

Her brother had discovered it ten years ago in his studies, and had shown it to her often. Those were some of her happiest memories. Her brother teaching her beyond the basic home skills and etiquette women were required to learn. She dreamed of someday going further in her education, maybe even to a university. Orihime had heard of other women attending, but anytime she had discussed it with her parents, they had become angry, insisting that such a large sum of money could be put to better use. And she would never dream of asking Aunt Masumoto for such an exorbitant amount.

As she finished tying herself into her clothing, there was a knock. Orihime jumped and brushed her hand over the book to make sure it wasn't visible. She thought about trying to run, but knew that such a gesture would be pointless. He would certainly be able to find her, even if there had been a place to hide.

The sound of his voice made her jump. "You might as well come out."

Clenching both fists at her sides, she walked out of the bathing room, her long sleeves trailing behind her.

Hichigo wasn't looking when she entered. He was fiddling with a traveling trunk. Orihime must have been too preoccupied to notice it before. When he rose and pocketed the key, she was stunned by his new appearance.

His hair was the same mass of orange locks, only still slightly damp from washing. He wore another suit, this one made of soft wool, in the deepest black. The stark white linen of his shirt contrasted perfectly, drawing attention up toward a tone neck and strong jaw. The details of the cut of his coat, the semi-fitted waist, the slight flare at the hem, the lapel slant well above the waistline, all spoke of some pretentious and horribly overpriced shop halfway across the world.

Most men of status in Japan clung to tradition, still wearing the formal attire, even as the masses moved toward a more practical western style. Her brother had also owned several suits, although none this nice. But _this_ man wore it as if the style itself had been invented for him. It hugged his form where it ought and still pronounced well-muscled shoulders and legs.

Orihime swallowed and turned away to hide the heat creeping up her face.

She heard him turn and braved a glance from under her lashes. For a moment he didn't move, just let his eyes sweep over her before he seemed to come back to himself. Scowling, he cleared his throat.

"Right…" He said. "We're leaving. We've stayed too long in the city as it is. But before we go, I'm going to save myself a lot of trouble by explaining how it's going to be. You can ride with me, as long as you're quiet. Give me trouble, and you go in there." He kicked the trunk.

Had he known her intimately, he wouldn't have been able to pick a better punishment. Orihime paled at the thought of being shut in such a small, dark place. There would be no way to get out, and a box that small wouldn't have much room for air. She would suffocate slowly, beating and clawing at the sides to no avail.

She felt dizzy and her knees shook before giving out completely. Then there were hands on her and Orihime realized that Hichigo was cradling her over his legs. She blinked up at him, not able to make out what he was saying, then the world seemed to click back into place and she could hear him again.

"You don't look so good."

She tried to push herself up. "I-I'm fine."

In spite of her protests, he led her to a seat and pushed her into it. She wanted to lay her head down, but he was kneeling in front of her, and suddenly, she felt wide-awake as he subjected her to a thorough examination.

He raised his voice. "You can come in."

A door slid open to reveal the butler from earlier, carrying a tray of food on white china. Her stomach growled loudly at the smell. She rubbed it gently to quiet it, feeling embarrassed at Hichigo's quirked eyebrow. Chad sat the tray down and vanished without a word.

Not sure what to do and afraid that she might tear the food apart like some wild, starving animal, Orihime sat staring the contents of the tray down.

He gave her a gentle shove.

"Eat quick."

She didn't need to be told twice. She stuffed bites of food into her mouth, barely pausing to chew. A tea cup came into her view and she took it gratefully.

_How could she be so hungry, when he might kill her at any moment?_

Well, maybe not at _any_ moment, because he was feeding her in the first place, but… soon.

She piled sugar by the heap into her cup and drank it eagerly. Her companion just shook his head and walked to the window, looking out over the grounds while she finished. She glanced at him and then back at her plate frowning. She had eaten everything, and she didn't even know if he had wanted any. That was quite rude.

"Do you want anymore?" He had come back to stand over her.

"No, thank you."

"Better?"

She nodded.

"Great, then what do you want? You riding with me or in that trunk?"

She glanced at the trunk and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"What's it going to be, Inoue-sama?"

She frowned, wondering how he always made her title sound sarcastic without actually putting any emphasis on it. Then she stood, realizing he was coming at her, and quickly stuttered out her answer.

"I'll ride with you!"

She prepared to bolt as he stopped closer than she was comfortable with.

"Good choice. Just remember, though, it's coming with us."

He was close now, too close. She could smell his scent from his clothes.

She jumped when he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. The polite gesture was disorienting, because it was something that she would have expected from a gentleman toward a lady in his care. He was escorting her out of the room as if they were a husband and wife going out to the theater.

All the way down the hallway, she could feel the warmth of his body, the hard arm underneath the delicate wool of his coat. Chad waited in the entry hall and handed his master a beautiful traveling cloak instead of the one she had left. He whirled it around her shoulders before she could say anything, without asking and she felt the soft brush of fur against her neck.

As she stepped outside behind him, Orihime saw a shining black carriage had replaced the one they had been in, and it was pulled by four matching horses. She had never seen anything like it. Men were loading the trunk onto it along with other items, but what caught her attention was the crest emblazoned on it. Surely, he couldn't just drive around in a stolen carriage with someone else's name on it, especially not one like _this_.

As she marveled at the audacity of it, he pushed her up into the ride.

To get an entire house of this magnitude under his command would require both great wealth and power. Orihime scooted to the far side of the carriage as she contemplated the implications of such a thing.

The killer must have devoted his entire resources to finding her. He apparently wanted her in good health, for who knew what purposes, and this orange haired deviant was just the kind of elegant yet ruthless villain to accomplish the job. She nodded to herself, certain she had at least figured out this much.

Orihime moved to press her back firmly to the wall of the cabin when Hichigo entered. As the horses began to wind their way off the estate, he reached for her. She yelped and sunk back throwing up her arms.

He growled. "Stop that."

She felt him grab her wrists. Despite using her full strength, he easily pried down her arms. Tilting her head to the side, she tried to wiggle away, but he merely hauled her back by the arms and leaned in close.

Gasping at his breath on her neck, she turned to face him, shocked. His gaze locked on hers, and she thought she saw something stirring in their depts.

His hand traveled very slowly up her arm, toward her shoulder. The feel of it hovering just over her skin, made Orihime shiver. He noticed and smiled. With his hand nearing her throat, she had to bite back a whimper. Then he reached past and tugged on her hood, pulling it up so that it covered her face.

While she sat gaping at him with her mouth open, he released her and leaned back against the leather, still smirking.

"And now, Lady Inoue…" He said, softly. "You're going to tell me what had you hiding in the slums."

Fear and nerves were making her jumpy, but never the less, she sat up straight. "I-I won't tell you."

If her answer annoyed him, he didn't let it show. Holding her gaze, he slowly pulled off his gloves, revealing long fingers with a strength she could still feel on her wrists. With deliberate menace, he used one of those hands to unfasten the top button of his shirt. Then the second was undone, then the third. And all the while, she remained trapped in his dark stare.

"I can wait. It's a long trip and I have plenty of time to think of a way to persuade you to talk." He slid his jacket off his shoulders, giving her a wicked smile. "Actually, I'll be surprised if before we're through, I don't have you babbling on about all sorts of things."

**A/N**

**Shorter than I wanted, but if you guys review, I promise to make it longer next time… How's that for incentive? **

**Oh, and **_**yes**_**… Have no fear. For those of you asking, this is still an IchiHime fic! Or… it's kind of an IchiHichiHimeAi… sort of. You'll see.**


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Courting Darkness

**A/N**

**I know, I know. It's been forever. I'm really sorry! I never had any sort of plot for this so I had to sort lots and lots of details out. Pick what characters I wanted to be in it and how to work them into an AU story without getting too OOC. And well, I had fun with it. Look forward to seeing lots of people I don't normally use :)**

Chapter Four

Hichigo watched the girl as he leaned back.

"Well…" He looked at her. "Want to save yourself some trouble and tell me why you were hiding?"

She was eyeing him with a small frown and more than a touch of confusion.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he sighed. "What kind of lady doesn't like being rescued? If I wanted to kill you as bad as you think, I wouldn't dress you up to do it."

He watched her nose crinkle as she seemed to consider that. "You...You're trying to trick me…"

Propping his elbows on his knees, he sat forward.

At his sudden movement, she gasped, groping for the handle on the door. He cursed, wondering how she had gotten so close to it without his noticing. Hichigo was almost too late, but at the last moment just before the latch gave way, he pulled her back. Grunting as she landed another kick to his shin.

"Oww! Damn it... Stop kicking me." He pulled her down beside him, so that she was within catching distance. When he looked again, she was as pale as milk. "Hey…you're not going to faint again, are you?"

She shook her head.

"Cause you don't look so good."

There was no sparkle to her grey eyes and not a trace of the light blush that had been dusting her cheeks. He felt guilty about causing her distress without being sure why. Something about the girl in front of him just seemed unspeakably breakable. It set a fine edge of anxiety over him just watching her.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He winced at the soft tone his voice had taken and was so distracted he almost didn't hear her soft reply.

"But he will."

All his previous irritation dried up.

She was more frightened than he had thought. He had underestimated that, which also meant that he had underestimated the danger. Was there no end to the amount of trouble that Gin could cause him in one life time?

Looking down at her, he thought hard. If he wanted her to trust him, he was going to have to make the effort.

"Let's get one thing straight. My name isn't really Hichigo. It's just Ichigo…Kurosaki Ichigo."

She blinked at him. "Do you have a lot of names?"

For a moment her eyes were so innocent that he forgot to be annoyed by her answer. Then her words registered and his jaw twitched. If there was something to be said for persistence, he really wasn't feeling it.

"That's the one I've decided to keep."

He eyed her in case she came up with another snappy reply. When she didn't, he continued.

"And I don't work for Ichimaru. Your aunt, Lady Matsumoto, asked a friend of mine for help finding you and here we are."

The girl regarded him skeptically. "My aunt knows someone you know, Hichigo- er, Kurosaki-san?"

This was a problem. He hadn't counted on needing to convince the woman he was rescuing that she was being rescued. And he hadn't expected to have to prove himself trustworthy, either.

"Yeah, well…" He cleared his throat and attempted to employ the polite speech and manners he had learned over the past several years. "I guess I could explain things. Like I said, I'm not Hichigo, not really, or at least not any more. I left that behind when I left Rukongai."

"I see"

He frowned at her.

"Don't give me that look. It's true, and anyway, you can call me Kurosaki-_sama_ because that's who I am. Lord Ichigo Kurosaki."

When she turned and looked out the window, unimpressed, he had to fight from grinding his teeth.

Usually, the formality that his title inspired irritated him. He hated the conventions and protocol that came with being a lord –at least the ones he could actually be bothered to remember. But he had secretly hoped she might be a little bit awed when he said that.

He shifted so that he wasn't facing her and crossed his arms with a scowl. After a few seconds of silence, he turned back.

"I don't work for Gin." Just in case she had forgotten. When she said nothing, Ichigo frowned. "I don't work for anyone."

"I see"

"My friend Urahara Kisuke asked me to come find you _as a favor_, because I owe him for getting me out of Rukongai. He's the one that knows your aunt."

"I see"

"Do you know how to say anything else?"

She turned back to him. "I don't believe you, Kurosaki-san."

Even though her eyes held nothing but pensiveness, he felt like she was deliberately poking his sore spots. And unknowingly or not his patience was stretching thin. He needed to establish some authority.

"I told you, it's sama. Call me Kurosaki-sama. Hell, call me Ichigo-sama for all I care."

"I don't think I could without feeling silly."

He was on his feet before he remembered they were in a carriage and cursed when he smacked his head on the ceiling. "What's silly about my name? And if you say anything about strawberries I swear I will throw you out of this thing."

Her head tilted thoughtfully to the side and Ichigo twitched at the thought of having just given her new ammunition.

He threw himself back into his seat, muttering and cursing under his breath. Damn that Urahara. He had probably known exactly how hard of a time Ichigo would have with this girl. _And_ he had had to go back to that place he had fought so hard to leave.

As far as he was concerned Hichigo was dead. Just another figment of the past Ichigo had pushed back and locked away so that he could move forward. The same way he had dealt with most of his past.

His earliest memories were happy enough, he supposed, memories of his mother bustling about their small dwelling, taking care of his two infant sisters. He remembered the skirts of her threadbare kimonos best, because they were at eye level. He remembered clinging to them and leaning against her legs as she worked. And she had always been working.

Then one day she had gone to the market and never came back. After a day of waiting, he strapped his sisters to his back and had gone looking. He found her by the river, dead and washed ashore. Her mouth was agape and her eyes wide and empty. Someone had knifed her in the belly.

He stayed by her until the men paid to handle such things came to take her body away. He had tried to follow it, but they pushed him back and ran faster than he could follow.

His father had been a traveling samurai and quite skilled. He was always away working for one lord or another and only returned to bring money or leave his wife pregnant again. When his father returned, he had found his children surviving off of what Ichigo could scavenge from the trash heaps, barely alive. Even after he came home they were always poor and hungry. Ichigo remembered men often offered his father money for his sisters, even as young as they were. It always made his father angry and Ichigo sick.

It was after the restoration, when samurai like his father were outlawed that Ichigo took up with Gin. He had been desperate to keep his sisters safe and fed, and he would have done anything at that point.

It was Ichimaru that had given him his nickname, Hichigo, saying that strawberries never really inspired the right kind of fear. He had always been teased mercilessly about it by the others. And it was Ichimaru that had set him against his other underling, _Grimmjow_ Jaegerjaquez.

Gin had loved to meddle. Always instigating between the two and pitting them against one another.

"Hichi, you like that Senna girl, don'cha? But Grimmy over here likes 'er, too. But I guess smart money's on Hichigo. You could always fight for 'er…I'll sponsor the match. Swords were always the proper thing for duelin'…" And on and on it had gone, until he and Grimmjow were at each other's throats every time their eyes met.

But for all Ichimaru's faults, he knew his trade. By the time Ichigo was fifteen, Gin had turned him into one of Tokyo's most talented thieves; able to easily execute the most dangerous and elaborate raids or quiet nighttime lifts. And around him, Ichigo had gathered the most talented ruffians the Tokyo underworld had to offer, like Ikkaku and Renji, smart and good with their weapons. Or Senna and Rukia, who could take in some poor unsuspecting lord and walk away with half his storehouse.

Ichigo had liked Senna, but she had followed Grimmjow after Ichigo and Ichimaru had fallen out. Gin had claimed Ichigo was too soft, letting witnesses live and not taking lives when it would be easier to do so. And Senna had ended up in the river, just like Ichigo's mother.

After that, Rukia had settled down, pooling her earnings to open her inn. Ichigo would never admit it, but he was proud of her. But thinking of women that had gotten caught up in street life reminded him of the girl beside him. He looked down to see that she was asleep again, her head falling over to rest against his shoulder.

It was amazing she had lasted five minutes on the street. No matter how strong her words had been, it was clearly a front. She was far too innocent, far too _trusting_ lying against him curled up like that.

Not to mention, that kind of exotic beauty should have made her stand out. With her pale skin, hair that shone like burnished copper and her bright eyes, it was surprising she hadn't been captured and sold. Girls like her went for outrageous amounts of money to massage spas that catered to wealthy aristocratic men.

No, she didn't belong out there in that kind of world. She had just been lucky. But it didn't matter now. In a few hours they would reach his home and he would have the satisfaction of seeing her face when she realized that he was exactly who he said he was. He glanced out to see that they had gotten well into the country.

The carriage hit a bump and the entire interior lurched.

Ichigo braced himself against jarring impact, but the girl beside him was thrown forward, yelping in surprise. He heard her, but was too late to do anything except make a grab as she tumbled forward. She was much lighter than he had anticipated and the tug that was meant to stop her fall, heaved her backwards into his arms, pressing her flush against his chest.

They ended up face to face staring at each other with identical expressions of surprise. Ichigo was acutely aware that she had braced herself with one hand gripping his thigh as she stared up at him. She seemed transfixed. Her gaze traveled down the length of him to where her hand rested and she blinked at it.

He watched as her fingers trembled and under her hand his flesh _burned_.

Speaking through clenched teeth, he tried to capture her attention. "Inoue-sama"

She didn't answer as she continued to stare at her hand. His own hands clenched involuntarily around her small waist as he said her name again.

"Y-yes?" Her eyes were dazed.

"Do you think you could let go of my leg? I'm trying to be a nice host. "

She squeaked and scrambled back, throwing herself to the other seat. Her cheeks were flushed crimson as she busied herself staring out the window. Ichigo shifted and turned in the opposite direction, trying to clear his mind of her unintentionally stimulating touch and thinking over their situation.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Lady Inoue leaned forward, squinting out the window. They were getting close, he noted, looking out and seeing the neighboring village.

"This isn't….the place I thought it would be."

He snorted. "Well, that's what you get for thinking you know everything. I told you, I'm taking you to my home."

She looked at the villagers and rows of stacked houses. "Which one is yours?"

"Oh, it's not any of those, I live in the country."

They continued on until the village was out of sight and they were passing the small vacated huts that littered the sides of the rural roads. He saw her eyeing them and almost smiled at her pensive look. Eventually, the trees thinned out and they opened to reveal a bridge parting a stream.

He rapped on the side of the carriage with his knuckles and it stopped over the bridge. "I want to show you something."

She pressed her back into the wood behind her. "You're going to drown me."

Ichigo frowned at the panic in her eyes. He was getting tired of her being afraid of him. She jumped or flinched every time he moved and it was starting to make him tense.

Kicking open the door, he reached back and slid an arm around her waist, hauling her from the interior. She sucked in a breath and knowing what she expected, he took a great deal of pleasure releasing her as soon as she had her feet.

"See, you're still alive."

Inoue spun to keep him in her line of sight, but when he made no move to rush at her, she let out a breath and looked around. She edged toward the side of the bridge and glanced over to the waters below. He joined her there, causing her to slide out of reach.

"That couldn't be more than a few feet deep, pretty hard to drown you in there."

"Y-you might have tied my hands or stuck me in that trunk or-"

She bit her lip.

"Afraid to give me ideas?" He shook his head. "Whatever. All I wanted to show you was that."

He pointed in the only direction she hadn't looked and watched her.

Beyond the bridge, rising out from the forest was a sheer wall of grey, moss covered stone, and sitting on top of it was an immense structure of stacked levels and curved roofs. Orihime sucked in a breath.

"What do you think?"

"What?" She started, realizing his close proximity.

"I told you I was taking you home."

"That…that's yours?"

Ichigo felt a smile tugging his lips. "Every last battlement, tower and wall."

She gestured at it. "It's a castle."

"Is that so?"

"There's a mote."

"And a drawbridge." He nodded.

She opened her mouth then closed it.

"Nine stories, twenty-one floors."

He was fighting a grin, pleased that for once, she seemed to be out of reasons not to believe he was who he said. Her mouth hung open and her dazed astonishment was plenty of pay back for having to fight her the entire way. After a moment, Ichigo directed his confused passenger back into the carriage and she didn't even bother to hide her bewilderment.

As the carriage pulled up past the sprawling gardens and manicured lawns, Orihime tried not to show her unease at suddenly finding herself surrounded by so much opulence. She had not been born poor by any means, but still, she felt she was out of her dept. Not that she intended to show it. These kinds of challenges at least she was familiar with. Her mother had taught her early how to feign confidence in these situations, and that skill would serve her well now.

It was a complete mystery to her how a criminal like Hichigo could come to possess something as valuable and rare as a castle. Still, it didn't mean that he could be counted authentic, either. For all she knew, this could be the latest trick on his part and she didn't intend to be caught off guard.

Orihime had already learned that even nobility wasn't above the basest crimes, and the sting of that betrayal would serve her well to remember not to fall for the same thing twice.

When they finally stopped, she turned to look at the man that claimed to be Lord Ichigo Kurosaki and found him looking every bit as nervous as she felt. He was slumped back in his seat and didn't move even when the door was opened.

Orihime was surprised at the change his posture wrought. She recognized for the first time that he couldn't be more than a few years older than herself. That realization and the sight of his slightly pouting face set to put her more at ease.

"Kurosaki-san?"

He glanced at her and managed a wry smile.

"I forgot about Nanao."

"Who's Nanao?"

"My housekeeper." He sighed. "Her family's served the lords of this castle for a million years or something like that and, well…you'll see."

He got out and offered Orihime a surprisingly polite hand down, after she finally recovered from the news that such a sinister person as Hichigo could be afraid of his own servant.

As she descended, the solid wood doors of the entry opened to reveal a stern woman followed by a gaggle of maids and footmen. The servants hurried to the carriage and began unloading several large chests and crates from the back, while the woman swooped down on them.

Austere and black clad, the woman anchored herself in front of them and adjusted her spectacles. Orihime tried to blame her exhaustion for her disenchantment with the woman as she watched her press her lips while Ichigo spoke.

"…and we'll need something to eat."

Nanao had eyes of deep blue behind thin-framed glasses and they seemed as if they could bore into the very soul of a person. "There was no news of your arrival, Lord Kurosaki."

"Uh, yeah, sorry about—"

"There's nothing prepared in the kitchen. Rooms have not been arranged and the castle is not presentable for guests. I'm not accustomed to working with such frivolousness. When the previous lord was in residence, everything was run smoothly and without haste."

Orihime watched, amazed as Ichigo exhaled, dropped his eyes and mumbled something under his breath. Where was the confident Hichigo? Where was the man that had made even the most thick-skinned crooks flinch and had caused her to cower in fear? Left in his place, was a young lord that stood listening to the lecturing of his own housekeeper.

That was… unheard of. Shaking free of the stupor that had held her since seeing the castle, Orihime watched curiously.

The reaction of at least twenty maids and a rather resolute housekeeper definitely marked this man as the lord of this place. And if that was true, than all this time he really had been trying to help her. He really had saved her from the men trying to kill her and she had hit him. Repeatedly.

A wave of guilt worked its way over her as she contemplated all the terrible things that she had accused him of. She bit her lip. He hadn't deserved any of it.

Orihime tilted her head, looking at him with new eyes. He had only tried to help her and now she was seeing him being openly criticized. That wasn't right. He had protected her, there was no reason she couldn't do the same for him.

"Under the previous owners, a proper household was run."

Ichigo cleared his throat. "I do apologize—"

"Kurosaki-sama" She interrupted, shocked that he would actually apologize in front of other servants. "I-I haven't been introduced."

Startled, he glanced down at her as if she were a stranger. "Uh, Lady Inoue…this is Nanao Ise, the housekeeper. Nanao-san, Inoue-sama is my guest."

"As I said, nothing has been prepared."

Before he could respond, Orihime stepped forward and favored him with the kind of smile that he had deserved since the beginning. "May I?"

He blinked before nodding.

Straightening her shoulders, Orihime turned and walked past Nanao with the young lord following on her heels, leaving the housekeeper to rush behind as they proceeded into the entry hall. Once inside, she removed her traveling cloak and as Nanao arrived, she held it out to her without looking to see if she was ready to take it, a perfect imitation of her mother's imperious mannerisms. The woman reached for it automatically. But of course she would, Orihime had been taught flawlessly.

"Nanao-san, I believe Lord Kurosaki will require that his rooms and a guest suite be made ready at once. You will also need to see that a place is prepared so that we can rest while waiting. We'll have tea, also, I think. And whatever food you have fresh. You may serve us a meal this evening at eight. That will be enough time for you to prepare." She nodded, pleased with her deduction. "Please show us to a sitting room now."

Nanao seemed frozen, but in the face of Orihime's absolute confidence that her orders would be obeyed, she snapped out of it. Thrusting the cloak at a maid, she hurried to show them the way. "Yes, Lady."

There wasn't even a grumble of previous masters as she escorted them up a floor and into the south wing. After lighting a fire, she bowed herself out.

Ichigo was quiet and collected until the door closed, but as soon as they were alone, he seemed to change. The tense scowl that had been gracing his forehead vanished. His chin lowered and a wicked smile curved his lips. But it was the eyes that changed the most. On the steps, they had been a warm mahogany, but as she watched they seemed to darken to a sable, leaving her to wonder if it was a trick of the light.

Orihime edged away from him as he swept across the room and collapsed with unstudied grace into a chair.

He was giving her a thoughtful look. "You're a sly and deceitful, little creature, Inoue-sama. To think you were hiding that up your sleeves this entire time."

Seeing that Hichigo had no intentions of annoying her, Orihime sank quietly into her own seat, trying her best to ignore the intensity of his gaze. What was going on? This was not the man that had been standing beside her in the hallway. Gathering her wits, she spoke.

"Hich—Kurosaki-sama, I think we might have started this all wrong. Can you please tell me who you are and where I am?"

"You gonna believe me this time?"

She probably deserved that. "Please."

"I already told you. This is my home. Karakura castle is what it's called. It was named after the village we passed through. And I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, its lord."

She frowned. "How is that possible?"

"After that friend of mine helped me out of Rukongai, I did some work for the emperor."

"What kind of work?"

Leaning back over the arm of his chair, he gazed up at the carved pillars that ran toward the ceiling. "In this new government, especially a couple years ago, there have been all kinds of situations that require skills like mine. The emperor had a lot of things that needed doing, things that normal people wouldn't want to know about."

Orihime could feel her brow knit. "These things must have been either terribly important or terribly dangerous to have paid so well."

He turned back to look at her.

"Don't"

In that moment, he was so much more Hichigo than the young Kurosaki lord that Orihime jumped when he spoke softly. A fine tremor worked its way through her and she had to clench her hands in her kimono to stop from visibly shaking.

"W-what?"

He relaxed in his seat and continued studying the ceiling. Just when she thought he was finished talking, he spoke.

"I really am Kurosaki Ichigo." Tilting his head to the side, he looked back at her. "While we're asking questions, why is it that your aunt waited so long to try and find you? By the time they contacted me, she had already started a rumor that you had gone to visit some friend."

Orihime brightened. "Then my parents still don't know?"

"Hey, that's right. You have parents, why not go to them?"

Brushing imaginary lint from her lap, she avoided his eyes. "I doubt you would understand. They have many other obligations."

"What does that matter? And why live with your aunt if your family's loaded?"

Orihime felt her back stiffen and her tone was uncharacteristically cold. "That's a rude question. If my family were in the position, of course I would be at home instead of living with Lady Matsumoto."

"Not that it matters. From what you said earlier, you couldn't have gone back home anyway without putting them in danger. And if they were to come here, it would give your location away."

"If you're talking about my reputation, it was already ruined when I didn't meet the servant my aunt sent for me."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about that, my ridiculous father is here somewhere and my sisters, so everything's proper. And we can always say you were here all along."

She bit her lip. "I don't think that's going to work."

"Sure it will. That friend I told you about can spread rumors like you wouldn't believe. I'll get him to talk it around, but first, you need to tell me this secret of yours."

Sneaking a peek at her host, Orihime saw that he was scowling again with an inquisitive look that temporarily banished Hichigo's existence. This man had saved her life and having admitted that, she couldn't in good conscience put him in danger by telling him. If she did, they would try to kill him, too.

"Well?"

Orihime looked up and met his eyes. "I can't tell you."

It was then that Ichigo disappeared completely, leaving behind the black souled thief in his place. These abrupt mood swings were starting to make her dizzy.

He crossed the room, stopping a few feet in front of her and the desire to flee was almost overwhelming. "You're going to tell me right now."

"I-I don't want you in trouble."

Hichigo tilted his head, considering her. "I've been in trouble my entire life and I have no intention of letting you put a stop to it." He gave her a fierce grin.

She stood ready to run.

"It's not only you—" Her mouth snapped shut a second too late, but she had already seen the flash of understanding light his eyes.

Silken tones caused a shiver to run down her spine as he moved closer, holding her motionless with night dark eyes. "Now Inoue-sama, tell me, little princess_… _who else knows your secret?"

"I…" She wished her voice didn't sound so weak. "I won't tell you."

He leaned in until she could feel the heat of his body and smell his scent. He was so close that her mouth went dry. She tried to shrink back, but the chair was already hitting the back of her legs.

Reaching up, he stroked a knuckle down her jaw. "I've persuaded many people to do as I wish. Don't make me have to persuade you."

Shaking inside she tried to hold his gaze.

A knock on the door jerked his head up. He took his chair as a footman entered carrying a tray. Relieved, Orihime marveled at the change in civility witnesses seemed to cause him as she gratefully sunk into the seat behind her.

He watched as the servants settled the tea between them, completely different than he had been a few seconds before. It was like throwing open the blinds on a dark room only to find that everything that had seemed frightening was instantly lightened.

Scowling at the procession of servants, he watched them approach as if they were a stronger and better equipped army. When they stood waiting, he glared at them and she saw that he was prepared to go on doing so. That was when Orihime realized he had no idea what was expected of him.

"If you would like, I could…"

"What? Oh, sure."

She gave the instructions with the ease of a lifetime of being waited upon. After they had gone, she pulled back her long sleeves and began preparing it. Ichigo continued to stare at the door the servants had left through.

"Would you like some?"

"Hmmm…?"

"I asked, if you would like me to pour your tea."

"Whatever…" It appeared he found the door quite interesting, because he was still staring at it as she tried to hand him his drink.

"Lord Kurosaki?"

"Yes?" He replied in a distracted tone.

"What do you want in your tea?"

"Thanks." He took the cup from her hand.

"You didn't tell me how you like it…"

Ichigo sat it down without drinking and turned to look at her. She gave up and began stirring sugar into her own cup, feeling nervous at his sudden perusal.

"You know, if you just told me what this secret of yours is, then there wouldn't be any point in having you killed. The whole thing would already be out."

She had already thought of that. "If I told you, there would be even more reason to kill me."

The man chasing her wouldn't want to leave a witness. If everyone knew what happened, there would be even more reason to kill the person that could testify. Or he might just want revenge. Either way the danger was still too great.

"What could you know that's so terrible? No, I know…you won't tell me. So what the hell are you going to do, hide for the rest of your life?"

The question caught her completely unaware. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. She had no idea what she was going to do. Orihime had been so busy trying not to get caught that she hadn't thought past the moment. Now, the rest of her life played out before her and she found that she was frightened of it.

"Hey!"

He caught her tea with a curse as it fell from her fingertips, setting it down before turning alarmed eyes on her. Around her blurry vision, she could she him sifting uncomfortably, not sure what to do about this new development.

She wiped her cheeks on one sleeve and when she pulled it away, he was crouching in front of her. He took her other fist in his hands and smoothed it between them. Orihime watched as her entire hand vanished under his and the world shrank to that small space where their hands met. Something unexpected flared to life inside her, something that brought with it an electrifying tension low in her stomach.

"I can help you."

His voice was feather light. Usually, it reminded her of wicked things, dark things. But when it was sweet and low, like this…she could almost succumb to the images of a fearless protector it provoked. In her mind, she could she him fending off legions with his elegant black blade, fierce and strong, a force to be reckoned with, and the temptation to tell him was almost more than she could stand. But what would the result of that be? Danger for two people, instead of one… She couldn't allow that.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't."

He shook his head at her. "You idiot."

Orihime jerked back out of his grasp, feeling a fresh wave of tears behind her eyes. "Then I-I won't bother you with my presence anymore. I'll leave at once."

"No, you won't."

She swallowed. "You're going to force me to stay here?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and stood, studying her. "Guess so."

She rose.

"Where are you going?"

"I assumed you wanted to lock me up."

His jaw clenched. "Sit down."

His voice carried so much authority, Orihime sat before she had fully made the decision to do so. He lowered his chin and glared at her through strands of orange hair. "Then, I guess we're at an impasse. But I have a proposal for you."

Orihime struggled to keep the apprehension out of her voice. "What kind of proposal?"

"I want you to promise you won't try running away." He waited for her to respond, but continued when she only watched him uneasily. "If you agree, then I won't lock you up and you'll be free to come and go as you please."

She frowned, but she believed him. She rose again. "Alright…for the time being—"

"Not just the time being."

"I won't run away."

Turning to leave, she was stopped by his next words.

"That's not all. Since you're here, I want you to teach me about being a Lord. I'm… I'm going to be getting married and the woman I'm engaged to is well-bred, like you. I need to learn or else she'll take off before we even get to know each other."

It was the absolute last thing she had expected him to say. He had a fiancée. She was shocked speechless. The news hurt her for some reason. He _couldn't_ be engaged. Her thoughts warred inside her head, winding around each other, stinging like angry scorpions. He was going to be married and he wanted her to teach him etiquette so he could impress a fiancée. The answer was _no_.

"What do you say? Think carefully. The more manners you teach me the less you'll have to deal with Hichigo." He leaned close to her, causing Orihime to edge around the chair. He followed her cat quiet. "Well? Who do you want to spend your time with?"

Spinning out of reach, she backed herself to the door, watching him where he stood grinning at her with all the wickedness of a pagan god.

"We…we can start lessons at dinner…"

**A/N**

**Ok, so honest opinion. There are no hollows in this story, so I turned Hichigo into a sort of split personality. What do you think?**


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Courting Darkness

**I'm officially hiding under the desk until you promise not to kill me for not updating. Alright? Oh god, I suck at life. I'm sorry!**

**I demonized Nanao? That wasn't my intention at all. I just figured her for the type of person that makes her complaints heard if she thinks they're valid… Also, I had originally planned her to play a larger role in which she was in love with the previous lord. Hence, her dislike of Ichigo, but that didn't pan out, so I cut it. If I can fix it, I will. I really do like her. What? I do.**

**Also, someone asked if Ichigo's house wasn't already mentioned back in chapter three. The answer is yes. He has quite a few houses actually, as you will see later. Thanks for the question!**

Chapter Five

At one time, Karakura Castle had been the home of a fearsome feudal lord. Upon his entry into gentle society, Ichigo had received it as part of the payment for his services to the emperor. It had survived the bitter wars that left other castles burned and ruined. The massive walls built with ton boulders, the towering wooden pillars and beams, all it spoke of history. It was sturdy.

It was the kind of permanence he had longed for as a child.

He could wander the courtyards. He could pace the grand ballroom. He could climb the damn roof if he wanted. The castle was his to do with as he pleased. And every time he traipsed its sturdy halls, he could feel himself settling deeper, putting down roots. It was a strange feeling, but not altogether unwelcome.

Never again would he be lost. Never again would he and his sisters seek shelter on the street, stealing in order to survive another day. His children would never go days without eating. People that lived in castles didn't lack the means to buy bread.

He would live here, marry here, and someday, raise a family here.

Ichigo supposed that was what he wanted the most, children.

A dark headed boy like his father or a pair of red headed twins, like his mother. One of both, or anything really, it didn't matter. He just wanted them. Then his line would be able to pass down through the ages, noble of birth and enduring any obstacle. Still, even though he wanted it, it still seemed hollow. A meaningless victory. There was something important missing from it all, he just had no idea _what_.

He sighed, running a weary hand over his face. Behind closed eyes, a little girl with auburn hair and teal-ringed grey eyes flitted, bright as sunshine.

He cursed, jerking awake and spilling ink on his missive.

Tossing the paper to the side, Ichigo grabbed another sheet of parchment and began again.

He rounded and slashed his kanji perfectly, making quick work of the letter. Of all the classes he had taken upon his promotion to the upper crust, writing had been his favorite. It relaxed him in a way not much else did, especially in the beginning. The definitive strokes, delicate in some places, heavy handed in others, reminded him of the graceful sweep of a sword.

His pen scratched out the instructions to his agent in Tokyo—the person that served as a bridge between him and the world he had escaped.

Either Lady Inoue had crossed Ichimaru personally or she had run onto material that threatened someone powerful. The latter was what he suspected. His operatives would have to be careful gathering information so that they didn't draw attention to themselves.

He stamped the wax seal and slipped it into an envelope, sighing.

He was worried about her. He'd seen the look of desperation in her eyes. She would be completely devoted in her conviction to escape. The girl really was a terrible liar. She was going to apply herself to thinking of a way out of her problem whether she had promised to stay or not.

So that she could protect him. _Him_.

As if, he needed protection. Never mind that _he_ was the one that was supposed to be protecting _her_.

That was one of her most aggravating qualities. She thought she had to protect everybody, and thought she had to put herself in harm's way to do it. It had almost gotten her killed, but she still wanted to throw herself right back in.

He couldn't deny that he enjoyed being around her. Especially his darker self. He seemed to find it entertaining to wind her up past the point of her patience, just to see what she would do next. But the true pleasure was that it was rarely what he expected. She was unpredictable, and Hichigo was drawn to that.

As much as he liked his new home, Ichigo had to admit, it got boring just being a lord all day. Having someone else around to break up the monotony of his routine was nice. Not that he was always bored. His father showed up from time to time, visiting from the temple down the hill where he had taken up residence. And there was always something that needed his attention.

But it wasn't the same.

For one, his father wasn't nearly as nice to look at.

Maybe it was her personality. Like how she cared so much about the well-being of others. She certainly had more than her fair share of courage. He knew hardened criminals that wouldn't dare to cross Ichimaru Gin.

Ichigo's eyes unfocused as he remembered watching her fly over the rooftops of Rukongai, still in her formal attire, running under the light of the Tokyo moon and being chased by the flame of her unusual colored hair. It was surprising she hadn't fallen and broken her neck.

Strange that she wasn't married. But come to think of it, several things about her were weird. She was cast onto an aunt that obviously wasn't responsible enough to care for her, meanwhile, her own parents failed to provide a place for her in the home that she would someday inherit.

Ichigo plucked his pen back up, fully intending to write Urahara and find out more about his charge. If he did, perhaps he would be able to find something that would get her to stop trying to run away, and maybe, he would find a key to that dangerous secret of hers as well. In any case, he needed her around long enough to teach him propriety and etiquette, all those little things he was going to need if he wanted to marry.

His engagement to Lady Yoruichi had fallen into his lap almost as easily as Karakura.

Years ago, when he'd first acquired his wealth, he had learned that respectability, to an extent, could be bought. Many families of ancient lineage were more than willing to overlook his flawed manners, as long as he was rich now. It would have been disgusting if it hadn't been so convenient.

Titles made people whose ancestors had been shoguns and conquerors lose every bit of sense they had. When he first moved in, they had filled his hall with gifts, visiting to introduce themselves for weeks on end.

The Shihōins didn't seem to be any different.

They had once been of great wealth and prominence, but with the new costs to repair their lands that were heavily sieged during the war, they were in danger of losing their family seat to debt. The Shihōin head of house gladly consented to a marriage between Ichigo and his daughter. Upon the lady's approval, of course, and she would arrive in a few weeks.

Ichigo had corresponded with the family the same way he did most things, through Urahara Kisuke. He promised to make himself as agreeable as possible and accept whatever decision she made. Hichigo knew lots ways to make himself agreeable to a woman, but Ichigo wouldn't be able to use any of that on Lady Yoruichi.

Yet another reason he needed Inoue. She was a true blue-blooded aristocrat. Without thinking, she could order an entire roomful of servants, wear lavish clothing as if it were nothing, and still maintain an air of humility and grace. She had a simplistic spirit and a delicate awareness of others around her, which he had come to appreciate. He also respected her more for her ability to set it all aside and show some common sense, even when she had been out of her depth in the slums.

He pressed his fingers over the smile that threatened upon the memory of her perched over the edge of a building, downing Yammy with a tile. If she was determined to get out, he would have to be careful not to stand under any overhangs.

Ichigo shook his head and bent to finish the address when Nanao entered. He cursed under his breath. He hated it when he didn't hear people coming, and the fact that he hadn't heard her heels clicking meant that he had been more engrossed in his thoughts than he realized.

She came and stood before the desk and he handed her his letters. "I beg your pardon, Lord Kurosaki, but the Lady Inoue doesn't answer when the maids knock at her door and dinner is ready."

He tried to adopt the authoritative tone that Inoue had employed so successfully. "I'll see to it. Thank you, Nanao."

She nodded crisply and tucked the letters into a large book at her side, before leaving.

It must be time for supply inventory, he thought. As much as he wanted Chad to return, he had to admit the woman knew how to run a house. He could hear her keys jingling as she left through the side door and disappeared.

Ichigo stood and made his way in the other direction, toward Inoue's room. She was in the wing of the house opposite his sleeping chambers. Polite men and women seemed to fear being alone together in close proximity, so he was certain that was the thing to do. Especially, considering the fuss she had made about her reputation.

He set off down the main staircase and across the great hall before heading back up a winding stair that lead to the newest part of the castle. He ignored the tapestries and paintings, and paid no attention to the expensive treasures that had intimidated him when he had first arrived in Karakura. It turned out that a man really could accustom himself to anything, even money.

()()()

Orihime entered the grand ballroom through the main entry, smiling as she was announced, just in case any of the other nobles chose to acknowledge her. They didn't.

She tried not to let her demeanor fall as she descended the stairs, fighting the urge to run back to her room and hide. It wouldn't do any good. Her parent's shame would find her, even if she buried herself under a mountain of blankets.

Orihime straightened her shoulders, pushing back tears and ignoring the crowd in turn, just as she had been taught. It didn't matter anyway. All her little girl dreams of growing up and marrying had long since faded. They would never accept her as one of them and she would never be allowed into their blood.

She raised her chin and straightened her back, weaving toward where her aunt usually mingled.

Most girls married at fifteen or sixteen, but at the age of nineteen, it was unlikely she ever would. Not that she was ugly or unattractive. No, the men that frequented her aunt's parties made it clear that she wasn't, offering money and gifts in exchange for her— _company_. But never an offer to wed. She was only good enough to be a paid whore, just like her mother. That was what they thought of her.

She picked her way through the faceless crowd as one by one backs turned toward her. Then at last, there was a familiar face.

It was him.

She blushed madly as his warm gaze swept over her. Orihime's feet went toward him of their own accord. Her heart squeezed in her chest when he smiled down at her. Even though she knew it was only kindness on his part, he always made her feel safe, cherished, more valuable than any other treasure.

She wondered if love felt like this.

Beside them, the crowd parted to reveal a man with gleaming silver hair, sword in hand, bending over a smaller woman. Her dark hair spilled free from her loosely tied coifs and she stood out against the richly clad masses with filthy clarity. The girl couldn't have been over fourteen.

Orihime looked around, pleading silently for someone to notice, for someone to do something, but they were still turned away from her. The girl was going to die. Why didn't anyone care?

She turned toward her partner, certain that _he_ at least would intervene, but on his face was a look of captivated interest. His lips parted.

"Do it, Gin."

The world fell apart as the blade plunged.

()()()

Ichigo crossed two more corridors before coming onto the branch known as the Princess Yoko Suite. Why it was called that, he had no idea, but it seemed everything in a castle had a name. And there were at least fifty rooms. He was still discovering places in the main building that weren't laid into the plans he had received.

He stopped at her door, knocking softly, then louder when he got no response. He frowned. Why wasn't she answering?

It was possible that she was hurt, but that wouldn't stop her from calling out. The rooms were large, but she should still be able to hear him if she were in there. Unless she wasn't in there.

He cursed and threw open the door.

Darting across the entry, he hurried into her chambers only to draw up short as he approached the bed. She was sprawled across it, her hair loose and tumbling. The top layers of her kimonos had been removed and were lying at the foot of the bed where they had been dropped. She still held the comb she was using when she fell asleep.

He noted the purple hue that colored her lids and the deep circles that ringed her eyes. Even her cheeks seemed paler than normal. She looked exhausted.

The guilt he had felt on the carriage ride rose up again, agitating his naturally protective nature. There was no danger here. So why did he feel the urge to stand guard, to secure what was his?

He shook his head, scowling as he stepped closer.

Heavy lashes fanned her cheeks, several shades darker than her eyebrows. She really had unusual coloring. And her hair…

He took another step.

There were so many colors. She wasn't a true redhead as he had first thought. It was more like a dozen different shades blending to create the richest auburn he had ever seen. The colors ranged from sienna to mahogany, from copper to gold. More shades than he could count and it looked silky soft.

Ichigo paused, realizing he had reached for it, when Inoue sighed and shifted.

Her mouth twisted and her breathing turned labored as if she were running from monsters, but it was the whimper that had him shaking her arm, trying to pry her from sleep. At first, she didn't seem to notice his gentle prodding, then her hand moved. She wrapped herself around his arm and turned to her other side, dragging him onto the bed with surprising strength.

He blinked down at her and then at his predicament.

"Well, that wasn't well thought out."

He could feel the softness of her breasts surrounding the hardness of his forearm and heat crept up his face. In this situation, Hichigo would have done more than sat there like a flustered virgin.

Ichigo sat on the bed, trying not to disturb it too much.

What was wrong with him? Did he want to protect her or take advantage of her? For a moment, he wavered, teetering on the edge between civility and barbarity, between Hichigo and Lord Kurosaki.

Clamping his teeth together, he forced Hichigo and his illicit thoughts to the back of his mind. With his free hand, he worked the comb out of her grasp, relieved it was no longer digging into his skin. Then he eased his fingers out of hers, slowly drawing his arm free of her bear hug, trying desperately not to think of the slow torturous journey it took between her breasts.

As soon as he was loose, he backed off the bed, not daring to look at her until he was firmly back under control.

Straightening his clothes, Ichigo's gaze went back to the pile of discarded robes. Something glittered and winked at him from beneath the folds, something he might have never noticed around the gold stitching. He reached down and plucked it out.

At first, he thought it was a golden box, but turning it over to catch the candle light, Ichigo realized that it was a book with a gilt cover. The front was decorated with embossed kanji and studded jewels. Emeralds, pearls, rubies, all layered with gold leaf. He opened the book to find the pages made of pure ivory, hand carved and painted in brilliant colors. It was a book of sutras.

Shutting the book, he looked from it to the woman on the bed.

The entire time Inoue had been in hiding, she'd had this with her. Ichigo was once the best thief in Japan; he knew the value of what he was holding. If she had sold it, she could have lived anywhere in the world.

It must be very special to her, special enough that she had weighed its worth against her own life.

He pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes at her. That seemed exactly like something she would do. Risk her life for perfect strangers, hiding from a killer, all the while holding on to something that could have set her free.

He shook his head.

Well, if it was that important to her, she probably wouldn't leave without it.

He looked back at the girl on the bed, feeling Hichigo's wicked smile curve his lips.

"Sorry, Inoue, but this is for your own good."

He tucked the book under his arm and shoved his hands into his pockets, shutting the door behind him with a click.

**A/N**

**Well? Am I free to come out of hiding yet? **


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Courting Darkness

**Authorial Notice:**

**Alright, this chapter is dedicated to Snow and Shellybee. They wanted to make sure I didn't forget this story. So be sure to thank them.**

**Next, I really, really love the messages you guys have been sending me. They brighten my world and I want to respond to all of them, but sometimes that takes me awhile. So please don't be discouraged if it takes me more than a couple of days to get back to you. K?**

**Well, it's embarrassing how much fun I had writing Ichimaru in this chapter. He's starting to grow on me as a character, I think. **

Chapter Six

Gin Ichimaru skulked down a quiet Tokyo street. Taking care to avoid the light, he dropped off the road and around the back of a hedge that masked a rarely used entrance into an elegant private residence. There he was met by a humorless manservant with long, cornrowed braids.

Gin smirked, not that it mattered since the man was blind, but still… Tousen always seemed to know.

The man's frown deepened fractionally before he directed Ichimaru to follow with practiced movements. Soon, they stood before a set of thickly carved doors that were guarded by two men.

His new employer had been very particular about the scheduling of Gin's visits. _Never_ before a certain hour and _never_ unsummoned. He had been invited on multiple occasions since his employ began, but more often since he had killed that girl. It was funny that she had been the link that had brought them together in the first place. Quite ironic.

Gin smiled pleasantly as the doors behind him closed with the solidness of timber striking timber, then he strolled unhurried toward the desk that took up the far end of the room. It was massively proportioned, sitting on a raised dais, probably meant to intimidate. Although, in his opinion, a well-placed knife or properly spoken threat was far more effective, but that was the way his employer worked, subtly.

He took a moment to appreciate the painting behind the desk.

To be owned by such a mild mannered gentleman, it was decidedly violent in nature, depicting the battling samurai of the Feudal Era, hacking each other apart with swords and kamas. Amused, he eyed the severed head of a warrior that had rolled across the battlefield, leaving a gruesome trail of blood.

Imported liquor sat on the desk, glowing warm bronze against the crystal flask that contained it. He shook his head, causing strands of his silver hair to fall into his eyes. He never drank. A disgusting and stupid habit. But then again, he wasn't a wealthy aristocrat. In his line of work, even half a breath's hesitation was the difference between whether you were counted among the living or the dead.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at the glittering light playing through the bottle.

Ichimaru couldn't count the number of men that had been stupid enough to mistake his smile or thin frame as weakness, but he was always happy to teach them otherwise. It was comical that he could outwit them so easily, even occasionally double-crossing an ally. It helped a man's reputation to that sort of thing every once in a while.

The heavy doors at the end of the room opened and he shifted to keep an eye on the entrance. His employer entered, sedate as ever, passing him by with as little regard as he spared for the heavily ornamented furniture.

Gin smiled cheerily, sweeping a low bow as he shoved his hands into his sleeves. The man didn't seem fooled by his congeniality, but then again, he rarely was.

"Have you found her?"

Gin's jaw twitched, but he kept his tone light. "Not precisely."

The man paused on the steps, turning back.

"Do I need to remind you what will happen if she reveals what she saw?"

Suppressing a sigh, Gin let his master cover this well-trodden ground, allowing his thoughts to wander while still keeping one ear on the conversation. It wasn't his fault she couldn't be caught.

He took in the family crest stitched into the silk of his employer's haori. His dress was impeccable, his manner polished. The mane of brown hair was pushed back to reveal a high forehead that spoke of intelligence, while he still somehow managed to sustain a sympathetic air… but appearances were deceiving.

Even his pacing seemed dignified as he expanded on the direness of the situation.

"Were you not supposed to be the best, Gin? Yet, she still roams free…"

He let his smile widen in response to the intended slight. The tips of his fingers brushed the hilt of Shinsō. "But this one's quite clever, ne? Hasn't attempted to contact the authorities, and even when we catch sight of her, she disappears like a wraith… Someone's helping her."

The man took his seat behind the desk, steepling his fingers in front of his lips before dropping them again.

"I told you not to underestimate her intelligence. Everyday longer she remains uncaught the risk to us grows. Find her, find out who is helping her. Kill them, but I want her _alive_. Do you understand?"

"Of course."

"Good, leave."

Gin bowed again before turning, the spot between his shoulder blades tickling as he walked away.

Ichimaru Gin was considered a very bad enemy to have, but this man… Yes, appearances were deceptive things.

Not a mistake he would make.

After all, Gin hadn't told his employer everything, not the entire truth. He hadn't told him about his old protégé's re-appearance or that it coincided with that girl vanishing from their tangled web. Telling him something like that would only seem like incompetence and inefficiency on Gin's part. No, best to just sort Hichigo out on his own, and he knew just the person to do that.

Gin smiled as he let himself out and silently disappeared into the night.

()()()

Orihime dropped her napkin over her empty plate and leaned back with a contented sigh. The food here was delicious. Even her smallest culinary whims were humored, no doubt on the castle lord's orders.

She chewed her bottom lip, thinking of the orange haired man that had both saved and tormented her.

He made no sense, changing from moment to moment like he did. One instant, he was Kurosaki-sama, both courteous and accommodating, showering her with every sort of indulgence. The next he was Hichigo, pestering and twisting her into panicky knots, then unraveling them slowly, silently mocking her as she came undone.

What kind of man did these things? She didn't know whether to fear or admire him.

She sighed again as she thought of Jinta and Ururu. There was no telling what had happened to them. One of her greatest fears was that they would be recognized as the children that had been with her the during the murder. She had never come back to their small, shared dwelling that night. What if they had gone out looking for her?

Orihime had awoken that morning to realize she had been fooling herself. Hichigo had been right. Her problem wasn't simply going to go away, not while there was still a chance that her pursuer could find her. He wasn't the sort of man to give up easily, she knew that for certain. No, she had to go some place that even he couldn't reach her, and she would take Ururu and Jinta with her.

She had considered Europe, but it simply wouldn't be far enough. They would go to America. She heard they accepted immigrants of every nationality. Just like a big pot of homemade stew.

Her brother had always talked about taking a trip there. She could escape from her predicament into a world where no one could find her, a place where people wouldn't ask too many questions. She could finally go to school or find a tutor. They were supposed to be making great strides in the world. Perhaps there, she could finally be free from the ugly truths of her parents' past.

There was little to keep her in Japan, after all. With her brother's death and her family's situation, it would probably be a blessing to them. There was aunt Matsumoto. Orihime didn't want to leave her, but if she couldn't attract a husband, all she would ever be was a financial burden. She had never liked being a burden on other people, but she had accepted her fate. Because of her lack of fortune and the scandalous lifestyle of her parents, there were no other options for her.

But now that she had survived the worst hovels in Tokyo, Orihime had new confidence. She was sure she could make it on her own and there would be the children to help.

Her life would no longer be lived among the aristocracy, true, but it was sure to be interesting and challenging. In America, her small financial independence would afford her more luxuries. She would certainly be able to buy a home. And Ururu and Jinta could pose as a maid and footservant. Not that she would let them serve her, but just to keep up appearances.

She would have to sell her book. That was upsetting, but she couldn't travel with it. It was far too valuable. She supposed, she could always send it back to her father, but even the thought of Sora's precious treasure funding a month's worth of his gambling binges made her ill.

Orihime took a sip of her tea before the hand holding it stilled. Her book! She had forgotten it. Hastily, she sat down her tea and went to the bedroom. She had been so tired that night. She hadn't remembered it was stashed in her clothing when she took it off.

Digging through the large wardrobe, Orihime felt for the hard corners of a book, but found nothing. It wasn't in there? She shook them out to be sure. Nothing. Did she not remember moving it? Could it have fallen out? Whirling around, she checked every available surface.

No… that wasn't it. The book wasn't there.

Her hands went cold. If someone had stolen it, she should go to Kurosaki—

She stopped pacing.

_Hichigo_.

How did she not see it immediately? Of course, he took it. She was certain. He was the master thief, wasn't he?

Orihime jerked the servant pull then raced back to the wardrobe and began pulling on clothing without waiting. She had just realized she was mixing two separate outfits when the maids arrived. They exchanged glances before hurrying to help.

To Orihime's relief, they quickly sorted out the mess she had made of things and began pulling and layering her robes until she was properly attired. She heaved a sigh, grateful she hadn't been forced to leave like that. Her mother would have been horrified.

"Thank you. I need to speak with the lord. Do you know where he is?"

They exchanged another glance and Orihime furrowed her brow.

"Yes, lady... He often visits his father and sisters at the temple. He took a horse a few hours ago."

Orihime blinked and turned to look at the girl that had spoken.

"Did you say temple? Are they religious?" She couldn't imagine anyone related to the infamous Hichigo serving in a priestly capacity.

"I suppose so, lady. They moved there shortly after Kurosaki-sama took up residence."

"Alright then, have a horse prepared for me as well." Orihime nodded, feeling the maid's hands still, pausing in their task of looping and pinning coils of hair.

"L-lady? Are you sure, don't you want a litter or rickshaw? We keep them prepared."

"No. A horse will be fine."

She had left with the two women gaping after her, at a loss. But Orihime intended to question Lord Kurosaki and it would be done without prying eyes. Servants could be horrible gossips. Besides, she loved to ride. Her brother had taught her- like he had taught her so many things- secretly and without their parent's consent.

A half hour later and after getting directions from the stable boy, she was riding across the countryside headed toward the temple. The journey was magnificent and she had to concentrate not to be distracted by the picturesque landscape.

She followed the well-worn path through a wood and across a small stream until the trees thinned, revealing a large stone temple blanketed in vines and moss. It seemed to Orihime that it sprouted straight out of the forest, without warning. The effect was breathtaking. The temple itself was eerily beautiful, the way things were in dreams. Sunlight filtered in through the canopy of trees, casting a golden haze over straight walls and stone steps. At the top, a dark headed girl clothed in red and white stood, sweeping away leaves.

Orihime dismounted and pulled the hem of her kimono out of her obi, making sure her legs were once again covered. As she made her way up the steps, she watched the girl push aside leaves only to have them blown back again in what appeared to be a never-ending cycle. A scowl graced her forehead and her mouth was moving, but it wasn't until Orihime got close enough that she could hear the rather imaginative curses and she realized why.

"Damn it all to hell…" She threw the broom down. "What a stupid job."

Orihime was stunned. She had never heard of a cursing priestess.

The dark headed girl looked up, finally noticing her. She seemed startled and quickly bent to pick up her tool.

"Oh, uh… Welcome to Karakura Shrine!" The smile looked more like a grimace. "Where all… uh, where all… Damn it, I can't remember. I'm Karin, who are you?"

"I-I'm Inoue Orihime."

The girl's face relaxed.

"Oh, why didn't you say so?" She tossed the broom back down.

Before Orihime could respond, another girl in the same outfit with blond pigtails rushed out to greet her. Bowing, she attached herself to Orihime's arm and began pulling her along.

"Welcome to Karakura Shrine, where all your blessing and warding dreams come true!" She smiled. "We don't really get many visitors out here. The shrine sells talismans and prayer beads… Or did you need a repelling spell?"

"Eh…"

Orihime was pushed along and she glanced back toward the other girl, hoping she could explain, only to see her sprawling under a tree, opening a book. She disappeared from view as they rounded a corner and came upon the entrance.

"We have everything you need, just step this way. Daddy, a visitor!"

Orihime snapped to attention. "I'm Inoue."

"Huh?" The blond girl stopped pulling. "Oh, that's you?" She gave Orihime the critical eye before apparently finding whatever she was looking for. Dropping a curtsy, she rose with another dazzling smile. "Kurosaki Yuzu, pleased to meet you. Ichi-nii told us all about you."

She bit her lip. "He did?"

Yuzu snatched up another broom that had been leaning against the entrance and directed her toward a low, stone wall. Orihime had to sit quickly to avoid the cheerful burst of sweeping that followed.

"That's right."

"And do you know where your… where Lord Kurosaki is?"

"Call me Yuzu, and he's around here somewhere, probably playing with daddy."

It was all Orihime could do not to return the girl's contagious grin with a confused smile of her own. "Playing?"

"Mmm… They do that. And you shouldn't worry, you know. Oni-chan won't let anything bad happen to you."

"E-excuse me?" Just how much did this girl know about her situation? Orihime's forehead tensed. "I don't think it's that easy. My problem is complicated."

Yuzu looked up with interest. "Why's that?"

Orihime wasn't used to being asked such direct questions and wasn't sure how to respond appropriately. She looked out over the flowers growing beside the temple, feeling a new weight on her shoulders.

"You mean not having an escort and being alone with him? I'm sure he'll think of something. And no one would try to take you while he's around, if you're worried about that. They're afraid of him."

She watched the girl sweep away imaginary dust and wondered what to say. She seemed to think her brother was a cross between a magician and some sort of legendary hero. Orihime was in no mood to disappoint her by recounting her enigmatic problems. There _was_ no simple solution. The only option left was to leave and as soon as possible. Which was why she needed her book.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Try turning around."

Orihime yelped at the voice that spoke directly over her shoulder and spun, almost falling over the stone partition. Ichigo cursed and grabbed her arm.

"You can handle three story buildings, but walls are your downfall?"

She leaned forward, brushing dirt off her side to hide her blush. He certainly seemed to be in a good mood. Unfortunately, it was at her expense. He had also forgone his sleek black suit in favor of the more traditional hakama and shirt. It suited him.

As soon as she was sure her face was a more natural shade, Orihime rose and faced him before blinking. "Did you know you have leaves in your hair?"

His face switched to a scowl and he reached up to brush them away. His ebony katana was back on his shoulder and she wondered if there had been some sort of trouble.

"It was for the old man."

"What?"

"You were wondering about the sword. It's practice."

Yuzu cleaned a circle around them with her broom. "Told you they liked to play."

"It's not playing. It's sparring." Ichigo crossed his arms. "You make it sound worse than he does."

"Come now, Ichigo. There's nothing wrong with wanting to frolic with your father." She turned to see a tall, dark-headed man with thick stubble coming up the walk. "You must be Lady Inoue. It's an honor to have such a noble guest."

Orihime smiled and prepared herself to bow to the head priest.

Ichigo stopped her with an arm. "Don't do it. It'll only get him over-excited."

She shook her head. "It's disrespectful not to perform the correct rituals."

He gave her a look before turning back to the high priest. "You better get something on that eye if you want to see out of it tomorrow."

The little blond miko turned from her sweeping and tsked, examining the man's eye, which seemed to be turning a deep shade of blue.

"Oh, poor daddy." She fussed, patting his hand. "Come inside, I think I still have some of the herbs from the poultice I made last time."

The man seemed crestfallen as he passed her by, tugged onward by his daughter.

Orihime watched as they walked away, unsure how to articulate her thoughts. "That's…"

"My father." He finished.

She turned back to look at him, mouth slightly open. "And you hit him?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds. How did you get here, anyway?"

"I took a horse."

"You rode a horse? Alone? And you're lecturing me on correct behavior?"

"You _wanted_ me to teach you, and I had a very good reason for coming."

He waited and Orihime tried to remind herself that she was supposed to be angry or at least irritated with him, but her body wasn't listening. Chills shot through her from all the places where the wind blew his clothing against her.

"What's wrong?"

Orihime jumped at the unexpected comment. Still flustered by his close proximity, she spoke without meaning to. "There are children. They helped me, and I'm afraid they might be found."

"Anyone see you with them?"

"I don't think so."

She dropped her eyes when he tried to search them.

"I need more than that."

Orihime took a deep breath and stepped away from him, trying to regain her ability to think clearly. "They were with me, when…"

He nodded. "Alright, if you tell me where they are, I'll have them moved."

"Where?"

"It's probably best if you don't know."

She turned to look at him. How was she supposed to escape with them, if she didn't know where they were? But that was probably what he was counting on. She pushed the problem to the back of her mind, resolving to deal with one crisis at a time.

"Where is my book?"

"Your book?" He walked a circle around her, stopping at her back. "I'm keeping it for you, in case you decide you want to run off in the middle of the night."

"But I…"

He twirled her around by the arm and she shivered, realizing his eyes had gone dark. "You _were_ still going to run."

"I-I have to."

Looking into his eyes was like being swallowed by the ocean. "You can't"

"Why?"

He stared at her, a small muscle in his jaw twitching. Orihime wasn't sure she had ever seen him at a loss. But he was… and there was a frustrated, desperate look in his eyes that puzzled her. Why did he care if she left? Her mouth opened slightly as she contemplated the idea that maybe he desired her company just for the sake of it.

"Why can't I go?"

He continued to glare at her, still struck speechless. A strange twitter filled her heart as she waited.

When he spoke, it was between his teeth. "Because I said so, and I thought you were going to help me with my fiancée."

The warm feeling that had been crowding her heart snapped like a twig and Orihime had to fight back tears. She should have known better. The idea that she could have caught the attention of someone like Ichigo Kurosaki was ridiculous. There had only ever been one man that had claimed to love her, and he—

Orihime shook her head, banishing the ugly thought. She would not waste anymore of her life on that man. She was starting over, and to do that Orihime needed Ichigo.

"If I prepare you for your fiancée's visit, will you help me get to America?"

He was still scowling, but after a few tense moments, he gave a stiff nod. Orihime released her breath and looked away. When she spoke, they both knew it was a lie.

"Alright, then, I'll stay."

**A/N**

**And that's that. **

**If you enjoyed the chapter, don't forget to leave your appreciation in the form of a review.**


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Courting Darkness

Warnings: As usual, there will probably be typos.

Chapter Seven

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez pushed through the back door of Rukia's tavern, careful not to draw unwanted attention to his entrance. If Hichigo was back like Ichimaru said, he sure as hell didn't want to be the one caught off guard.

He snarled under his breath.

Just thinking about that aggravating fuck made his lip curl. Something about Hichigo had always grated on his nerves, nothing he could put his finger on, but something that just pissed him right the hell off. And he didn't always seem to add up. He could be inhumanly cruel one second and a gutless, bleeding heart the next. It was fucking _maddening_.

Grimmjow had never understood Hichigo's aversion to murder, not when it was a kill or be killed world. But somehow, that _bastard_ always managed to stay out of the way of someone else's blade.

Grimmjow shook his head, disgusted. Even when they were still training with Ichimaru, Hichigo had all the traits that Grimmjow had had to work hard to get. A natural and lethal skill with his sword, a clever wit, and a magnetism that made women do insane things just to get his attention.

Grimmjow'd always wondered why Ichimaru had picked him over Hichigo, in the end.

They had always butted heads, and every comparison had left him looking weak and inferior in comparison. But he supposed, maybe that had been the reason. Perhaps, Hichigo's ability had threatened Ichimaru on some level. But he'd probably never find out. Least, not if things went well and he killed his old rival.

Grimmjow stopped before the doorway, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the dark. It was crowded, like usual, and there was a slight pause in the room as he stepped over the threshold and every face turned to consider him. He was recognized and the buzz of hushed whispers resumed, if only a bit warily. They were still watching him, although it didn't look like it, but he didn't care. No one knew why he was there and no one would be stupid enough to ask.

He searched the crowd, not finding anyone of interest until his eyes slid to the bar and landed on a queue of bright red hair above tattooed brows. Renji was bickering softly with Rukia, but they stopped when he took the first step their direction. Rukia's face dulled to an emotionless mask as she eyed him coolly, her hand disappearing from view to wrap around the blade of her dagger. He liked Rukia. She was feisty and not too bad to look at. It was disappointing that her loyalty fell to Hichigo.

Renji glared at his sake as Grimmjow leaned next to him before he drained it in one swig.

Grimmjow smiled, flashing his teeth at the smaller woman across the counter. "Heard your boy Hichigo was back."

She glowered at him, lips twisting. "He's gone again."

"And he didn't say where?"

Her hand was behind her back again, and it was amazing how she could look down her nose at him considering she was about two feet shorter.

"He never does." Rukia moved away. "I have things to do."

She left and he turned his back to the place she had been with a growl. Shit. He had hoped for information, but he supposed she had never warmed up to him. Just as he was about to leave, Loly and Menoly came through the door, scuttling to a dark corner in the back.

He narrowed his gaze before making his way over. Menoly looked up when he came towards them, but the dark haired girl's head was down and after a few steps he realized she was counting out coins. He snorted. It was almost too easy.

"What the hell do _you_ want?"

He didn't look at Menoly. She was too smart to give up information, but too utterly unremarkable otherwise to be useful. Instead, he focused on Loly. He tossed a couple coins onto the table, watching as their heads snapped around to follow the flash of gold as it spun on the wood's surface. Loly licked her lips, her stomach giving off a loud rumble.

"I was about to have some dinner. Why don't you go get it?"

Menoly frowned, looking at the other girl before snatching the money up and going to order something from Rukia. Grimmjow slipped into her vacated seat.

"Hichigo's back."

"He was, but he's gone again." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave him a pouty frown. "You just want to kill him."

Fuck, did he ever. "It's nothing like that. I'm looking for a girl. She's got orangey-red hair with a bunch of different shades—"

"What do you want _her_ for?"

Grimmjow was vaguely aware his mouth had dropped open. He hadn't expected her to know anything and was just leading up to asking more questions about Hichigo. He leaned across the table. "You saw her?"

Loly shrugged.

"Well, where the fuck is she?"

"How should I know?"

His fingers curled into fists and he wished he could wrap them around her throat. He could beat it out of her, get her alone and keep hitting 'til he got answers, but that would take time he didn't want to waste. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fist of coins, slamming them on the table he pinned her with his gaze. Loly stared at the pile beneath his hand, her fingers twitching.

"She was here, but he took her away."

"_Who_ took her away?"

Her eyes never left the money. "Hichigo."

()()()

Ichigo sat at his desk, glaring at the paperwork in front of him and tapping his knuckles against the clawed arm of the chair. He glanced at his fidgeting hand before slumping down into his seat and throwing a leg over the arm instead.

She was infuriating. Determined to keep running away like she was. Was he really so detestable that she couldn't stand to be around him? Ichigo sighed. No, that wasn't it. It was something simple, he knew it, but he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was.

Ichigo thumped his head back against the chair, tracing the wooden pillars up to the ceiling and its intricately carved plaster molding. A chandelier hung, covered in thousands of delicate crystal droplets, directly over his head. He frowned, wondering why he had never noticed its precarious placement.

It looked heavy. If it dropped—

He rose, snatching up his papers and relocating to a couch across the room. Sprawling gracelessly, he tucked an arm behind his head and began reciting her previous lesson.

"The Emperor is addressed 'Tennō'. The Empress, 'Kōgō'. Dowager Empress would be… 'Kōtaigō'."

Ichigo pressed his fingers into his eyes, dropping the list on his chest.

"Crown Prince, 'Kōtaishi', his wife, 'Kōtaishihi', their heir would be 'Kōtaison'. Plain princes are 'Shinnō' and plain princesses are 'Nyoō' unless they marry in, and then they're… then…" He cursed, raffling through the papers.

Stupid imperials. Why did they all get different titles? It was easier when all he had to remember was that so-and-so was lord of such-and-such.

Learning how to be noble was a lot different from learning to be a thief. For one, being a thief wasn't half as boring. He would much rather be sneaking in to someone's treasury than waiting for another afternoon lesson from Inoue. Not that it was terrible. He had asked for it after all, but being around her was clouding his mind with all manner of irrational thoughts.

It had only taken him the first day to conclude that she was unusually intelligent. It was hard to tell from the way she would often be lost in thought, having little or no idea what was going on around her. She actually expected him to be able to memorize entire pages of notes at a time _and_ to repeat them back.

He gave up flipping through pages and stared at the ceiling again. "Inoue is addressed, 'Lady Inoue', with her father's name. When she inherits his title, she'll be 'Lady Orihime'. When she marries, she gets that name, so it'll be 'Lady Kuro—'"

He stood, letting his papers cascade to the floor.

Turning to pace in front of the fireplace, he heard the click and slide of the door opening before Inoue entered. It was surprising how he had never noticed the way she entered a room before. There wasn't any sound except the light swish of long sleeves trailing. It was like she floated, all grace and soft movements, clothed in a shimmering gold and salmon kimono with dark blue layers in a shade he was particularly susceptible to.

She stood watching him and with a soft curse, he realized that he hadn't returned her bow. She shook her head at him.

"That's too low. Your shoulders shouldn't move." She reached to correct his posture before she seemed to notice their proximity. Blushing, Inoue took a step back and looked away. "A simple nod would suffice for anyone at or below your rank…"

He cleared his throat into the silence, searching for something to do.

"Would you like to sit down?"

At her rapid nod, he took her arm and led her to the couch. When she didn't begin her lesson immediately, Ichigo frowned. Inoue's nose wrinkled in concentration before her small pink tongue peaked out at the corner of her mouth. He eyed it thoughtfully.

"Something wrong?"

"Have you heard anything about Ururu and Jinta?"

His gaze snapped up from her mouth to her eyes. "Yeah, they're a couple of little monsters."

"They are not! They do what they can and they helped me... It's my fault that they're in danger at all—"

"Don't worry about it. They're fine."

"They are?"

"I had them sent out of the city to a friend. He'll give them a place to stay and make sure they're taken care of."

She watched him from under her lashes. "Would this be the same friend that helped you acquire this castle?"

Ichigo watched her with a narrow gaze.

"I'm not going to tell you where they are, so you better get running away out of your head."

She slid down in her seat a few inches, abandoning the good posture she had been pounding into him the past week. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He liked her so better this way, not uptight and worried about every insignificant detail. It suited her, made her look a bit tousled, like she might not mind if he tipped her back on that couch and showed her how to unwind properly…

Damn. She had stopped talking again and he had no idea what she had said. He shuffled his feet over the fallen papers before remembering the lesson. Ichigo launched into a recitation of terms of address for various Imperial family members and government officials. Relived when she nodded, carefully following his progress.

He stopped when she laughed, biting her lip to stifle a giggle. "You're bored with titles, aren't you?"

Ichigo blinked up, surprised at her perceptiveness as she raised a sleeve to cover her smile.

"A lord isn't called Lord such-and-such." Her brow furrowed. "We could move on to decorum?"

"What about it?"

"Do you know what to do when your fiancée arrives?" She bit her lip at his clueless expression. "Do you know how to interact with a woman, at all?"

Ichigo arched an eyebrow at her and she flushed, creamy skin turning pink and drawing out the strawberry tones of her multi-colored hair. He itched to know what it would feel like to sink his hands into it, to feel it spill against his chest and lower.

Inoue swallowed, unable to hold his gaze. "Let's just start at the beginning."

"Okay."

"You should never attend any private or social function with a woman who is not a close relative without a chaperone."

"What, never?"

"Never."

"You sure?"

She blinked at him.

"Right. No going anywhere with a female." He paused. "Really?"

She nodded, going back to her list as a strand of hair slipped free and fell over her shoulder. Ichigo tilted his head, watching its progress.

"We're alone, Inoue."

For a moment, her mouth moved without sound. She blushed, licked her lips and tried again.

"You should also avoid familiarity." She flicked her eyes to his, but quickly looked away. "My situation is different. I'm already lost to good society. Normally, I wouldn't visit you alone or attempt to teach you anything, except…"

He took a step forward. "Except?"

She bit her bottom lip and he took another step.

"I'm in your debt." Inoue looked up at him, long lashes over mirror bright eyes. "I can't think of any other way to repay you. If you hadn't rescued me, he would have found me."

"Who?"

She almost said the name without thinking. He could see her lips move to form the sound. Then she caught herself at the last moment.

With a squeak, she lept to her feet. Only, he had moved so close that he was practically leaning over her and her head made contact with his chin. A spike of pain shot through his skull, sending him bouncing back, swearing. Inoue yelped and pitched backward, hands clutching her head. Still swearing, he made a grab as she lost her balance and curled into a ball, taking him with her.

Ichigo tumbled to the floor, still clutching Inoue. As his pain receded into a dull ache, he looked down to see her perched on his legs. Her arms were still over her head, eyes closed tight. He sighed, resisting the urge to rub his own sore jaw.

"Here, let me see." He turned her in his lap and pried her hands from her head.

"I_-_I'm fine."

Ichigo ignored her and tilted her head down. She squeaked when his fingers brushed a bump forming at the crown.

"Really, I'm fine. Please, let me go."

He dropped his arms, letting her slip from his grasp. Ichigo was watching and ready when she tripped over her sleeves, and he caught her before she hit the ground.

"I told you. Now, let me see."

"W-What are you doing?"

"I'm taking your hair down."

She tried to pull away. "But, you can't do that!"

Knowing better than to argue, Ichigo brushed her hands away and pulled out the blue hairpins. Hair fell over his hands like heavy silk. It ran the full length of her back and was cool to the touch. His fingers were in it before he knew what he was doing.

"D-Don't."

She made a grab for the pins, latching on to his wrist and lunging. They had touched before, but Ichigo couldn't remember her ever intentionally initiating contact. Her fingers brushed the cuffs of his sleeves and he could feel his pulse beating rapidly under her grasp.

Kissing her seemed like such a natural thing. Like drinking liquid sunlight. Her mouth was soft and sweet, and he drank at it slowly, savoring the sensation. Heat pooled into his chest, slipping down into the pit of his stomach as he licked at her bottom lip.

Every nerve ending clamored to life, tingling and begging for more contact. When she opened for him, he pressed his thumbs under her jaw, arching her neck back so that he had better access to her mouth. He was careful to be gentle as he tried to capture that teasing pink tongue of hers, but she was so easy to get lost in. It felt like he had downed an entire bottle of sake. Everything was becoming hazy.

Her arms moved up to the back of his neck and a thrill shot down his spine as her fingers tangled into his hair, tugging him closer. His palms slipped down her shoulders and she jerked back, breaking the contact and catapulting him out of his daze.

Ichigo blinked, pulling further back. She was holding very still, watching him. Her hair tangled over her shoulders and long strands of it were still wrapped around his fingers. How had she managed to stay unattached, a girl that could kiss like that?

He closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing and his wild hormones before deciding he'd have better luck if she weren't sitting in his lap. He gathered her up, ignoring her squeaks of protest and sat her on the couch.

Inoue seemed to be a mix of startled confusion. He spat another curse and turned away. She had woken up that dark craving, stirred the other side of him that was always hungry. He had done a lot of terrible things in his life, but... she was _innocent_, utterly defenseless against anything he could throw at her. He couldn't take advantage of that.

A shadowy voice stirred inside him, laughed, and asked why not.

"Fuck, I don't need this on top of everything else."

"Why did you… Why did you do that?"

He glanced at her, took one look at her flushed face and red, swollen lips, and spun back around. He shoved a hand through his hair.

She continued. "I… You have to promise… not to do that again."

"I have to, huh?"

"Are you making fun of me?"

He turned back to see that she had repined her hair, although it was still a mess. Her lower lip was trembling and for a moment, he couldn't take his eyes off it. Hichigo laughed, prodding him, daring Ichigo to promise, to promise like she had promised not to run away.

Ichigo stuffed his hands into his pockets and considered it before a cold tingle slipped down his spine. A smile curved his lips. He looked up at her through his hair.

"No, Inoue-_sama_, I'm not making fun of you."

He began walking toward her, while he held her eyes and fought to control himself.

Orihime stumbled back, swallowing hard. "So… you p-promise?"

"You don't want me to promise that."

"I-I don't?"

He shook his head with a wicked smile, reaching up to trace her lower lip with his thumb. "No, you don't. I did the teaching just now, but you sure were a fast learner."

Her cheeks flushed and she gasped, backtracking quickly, picking up her skirts and all but running from the room.

After the door shut, he dropped his hand before shoving it into his pocket, closing his eyes. What the hell did he just do?

A/N

Poor sad, sad Ichigo. He's hopeless.

Thanks for reading!

Review?


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Courting Darkness

**Authorial Notice:**

**I know it's been forever, I'm sorry. Real life, blah, blah, excuses and so on. Don't we all feel better?**

**This is for my darling Sariniste, I fear her wrath like God :)**

**Please allow me to apologize in advance for the extreme amount of expository in this chapter. It probably could have been helped, but I was lazy.**

**Warnings: M-ish.**

Chapter Eight

True to his reputation, Hichigo really had vanished. Or at least, that was how it appeared, but Grimmjow knew better. He had seen that bastard bleed far too many times to believe those asinine rumors that he was some sort of otherworldly demon.

And he hadn't been wrong.

His old rival had slipped up. He had been seen with that girl at Rukia's, and he had been seen _leaving_. Turned out Menoly hadn't been so worthless after all. She had seen them make their exit and even if she hadn't wanted to part with the information, he'd been able to convince her otherwise.

Grimmjow curled his lip in disgust, still irritated at the trouble he'd had to go through. Stupid bitch. Could've saved herself a whole mess of pain if she'd just told him, instead she made him smash her face up some. Too bad for her, no one wanted to fuck a busted up whore.

That was how he managed to end up in front of a Gendai budō training hall belonging to a man named Arisawa.

Hichigo had left the city in a carriage belonging to the guy, but after a quick look around and bribing a stable hand, Grimmjow had confirmed that they had all their carriages. Just when he was about to double back and find those dirty whores for giving him shit information, the kid told him that they _had_ been missing one, but it was back.

Borrowed, not stolen.

Hichigo must have been in one hell of a hurry to leave town. That or he was getting rusty. Grimmjow almost smiled at the prospect.

After three days of waiting, that wasn't all he discovered. The place was a front. There was no man named Arisawa. It was a damn woman, a woman running a dojo and using a man's name to do it.

Grimmjow hissed through his teeth before turning to spit the foul taste out of his mouth. And she was young, couldn't be over twenty. He didn't know what her connection to Hichigo was, but he sure as hell planned to find out.

And just like that, a small girl dressed in rags with bright green hair scurried up the walk. She gave a quick glance around before heading to the back entrance, forcing Grimmjow to move to keep sight of her. She knocked twice and took another look around before the door opened. It pulled back to reveal a slender woman with spiky, cropped hair.

He snorted. That was the Arisawa woman, alright. If she was trying to pass for a man, she was doing a shit-ass job of it. He could clearly see the slope of her tits even under all that bulky clothing.

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed.

She spoke to the girl before holding out a letter and a coin. The kid smiled grabbing both and shoving them into her dirty clothes as she left, scurrying down the walk as fast as she had come.

Grimmjow smiled to himself, flicking his collar up and following. They were making it too easy.

He stayed behind the girl until the school was out of sight, then he made his move.

Faster than anyone walking along the street could see, he shoved the green-haired brat into an alley, cornering her and wincing when she raised an unholy fuss.

"Hey! Let go of me! Nel didn't do nothin' to you!"

She aimed a small foot at his crotch which he barely managed to avoid.

"Let…Err..go!"

Grimmjow cursed, making a grab and clapping a hand over her mouth. "Damn brat. Too fuckin small to make this much noise…" He hissed when her foot came closer to its mark and grabbed her throat giving it a good squeeze. "Shut the fuck up or I'll put you in the river!"

The words were barked out in a tone no smart street thug would argue with and she stilled instantly, staring him down with wide eyes.

"You know who I am?" He grinned when she tried to swallow around his hand, but she nodded as best she could. "Maybe you're not so stupid, after all. That's good. Good for you, good for me." He eyed her closely. "I let go and you scream… I'll put a knife in your belly, got it?"

She looked good and scared, and that suited him. As long as she answered right.

He released her throat, but kept her pressed tight into the wall.

"What's that Arisawa bitch got to do with Hichigo?"

Her eyes went big at the name. "Nel don't know nothin' bout him! Nel just takes the letters—"

"Yeah?" Grimmjow reached into her shirt, ignoring the muffled squeak of protest. "Take 'em where?"

He found the letter, pulling it out and flicking the seal open with one hand.

"Nel takes it to Pesche, and Pesche takes it where else it goes, but Nel don't know where!"

Grimmjow squinted, reading what he could of the letter. He didn't know this Lord Kurosaki or Urahara guy, but Inoue Orihime was a name he had been hearing a lot about recently. His scowl changed to a smile that showed teeth.

"And where's this Pesche now?"

()()()

She was dreaming again. She knew she was, but it was such a wonderful dream that Orihime didn't want to wake up.

Once again, he had saved her from the embarrassment of standing alone and un-partnered. Orihime rested her head on his shoulder, letting him lead her wherever he chose, dancing to a melody she didn't recognize as his fingers stoked small circles down her back.

Orihime shivered, smiling against his impossibly black suit even as the candlelight flickered, making her feel dizzy and heavy.

Fluttering sleepy lashes, she frowned, shaking her head a bit to clear it. Black? That wasn't right. Sosuke always wore lighter colors, whites and creams and greys.

She pulled back, brushing past locks of orange hair that tickled her face, to see eyes of the darkest sable. Hichigo's cruel smile filled her vision, but even as she tried to jerk away, he only held her tighter. Tighter and tighter, until _she couldn't breathe_…

Orihime gasped, throwing herself up in bed and wondering if she had really screamed, or if the sound of her own voice echoing off the walls had only been part of her dream.

()()()

Orihime peeked through the open door into Ichigo's study, checking to make sure no one was there before entering. She hurried across the room to the high slit window that sat behind the desk and peered down at the expanse of green lawn. Not two minutes later, Ichigo appeared below, pausing to speak to a groundskeeper before stuffing his hands into his pockets and continuing on his way.

It looked as if he were headed to the stables. She hoped he was. That would mean he was probably going to visit his family and Orihime would have more than enough time to search his office.

She bit her lip at the thought before pushing back her small wave of guilt. It had to be done. There was no time to feel bad about it now.

Over a week had passed since he had kissed her. A week of awkward silences and guarded emotions. It was all she could do to avoid the subject when he seemed determined to bring it up at every possible exchange. She didn't understand why he was so resolute on finding out what she felt. He had already made it exceedingly clear that he didn't have any sort long-term intentions for her, but he was still almost relentless in his query. That was, until Orihime reminded him of his fiancée. Since then, things had been even worse.

His polite indifference was like a knife twisting into her heart.

And her dreams had become even worse. Only now, Hichigo was a villainous and active participant.

The young lord's mercurial mood shifts had confused her for the first several weeks she had been in his care. But slowly, Orihime was beginning to understand a few things. She no longer referred to him as simply Kurosaki-sama, because it was clear that wasn't always the case. Sometimes, he was still the dark thief that had chased her over the rooftops of Rukongai. It felt as if he were still stalking her. Still chasing. Those times, he was Hichigo.

If it had only been Ichigo, she might have kept her promise to stay, but Hichigo frightened her.

He was unpredictable, dangerous.

No one had ever kissed her like that. He had done it slowly, with his entire mouth, his entire body. It had been amazing, and it had been altogether sensually wicked. That was how she had known that it was the thief kissing her.

That was exactly what he had done. He had slipped past her defenses, left her muddled and unaware, and before she even knew what was happening, he had taken everything she still held dear.

With all her other troubles, she couldn't possibly deal with this, because although the castle was enormous, now she could _feel_ him. It didn't matter where he was, how far, Orihime could make his presence out clearly.

She shook her head as Ichigo finally disappeared around the hedge.

No, that wasn't exactly true. She _wanted_ to feel him, and that was an entirely different problem. She couldn't want to be with him, because he didn't want to be with her. He had a fiancée.

And Orihime didn't ever want to fall in love again. Not after the last time.

That was why she had to break her promise and run away. Quickly, before he could catch on. She would try to discover where Ururu and Jinta were, where her book was, then she would run as if the pagan god of hell himself was after her.

It would be hard, but there weren't any other choices left. Because Orihime was starting to fear she had already fallen in love with Ichigo Kurosaki.

Sighing, Orihime left the window, realizing that she had been staring at nothing for several minutes.

She opened the desk's side drawer where all the unopened mail still waited. Most of it was from different Karakura merchants, another was what Orihime was certain was an invitation from another local lord. Nothing else was there.

Orihime placed it all back where she found it and bit her lip. She had already looked for her book yesterday, and had come up with the same result.

Just who was this friend of his? She couldn't remember him ever actually saying a name, but if it was someone Aunt Matsumoto knew as well, then there was good chance Orihime had met them at one of her aunt's events. It had to be someone in the government. Someone powerful enough to be an emissary to the Emperor…

Orihime sighed.

There had to be somewhere Ichigo would keep papers that significant.

Standing, she began to pace. Her brother hand always kept his important papers in his office, but maybe Ichigo didn't. He was a thief— or was.

Where would a thief keep important papers?

Orihime started at a noise behind her and turned to see a very large man with a mane of shaggy, brown hair. She sucked in her breath and took a step back.

"It's you…"

Orihime jumped again when he bowed suddenly. "Yasatora Sado."

"You're the… butler?"

He nodded and Orihime wondered how he could even see her. She didn't think he had actually caught her going through Ichigo's things, but she wasn't certain. With careful movements, she eased back to the proper side of the desk.

"I thought you were the butler for the house in Karakura?"

He was silent for a second longer than normal and Orihime stared at him.

"Sometimes."

"Oh."

Orihime shifted.

She had never felt ill at ease with a servant before, but she had also never encountered one this large, especially not while performing questionable activities in someone else's home. Still, he had yet to apprehend her, so maybe he was friendly.

She decided to take a chance.

"Yasatora-san?" She forced her hands not to fidget. "Could you tell me where… uh, where Lord Kurosaki's chambers are?"

Orihime thought his brows rose under all that hair, but he still answered her question.

"The East Wing, third corridor."

Nodding hastily, she slipped around him with a strained smile, glad for the opportunity to leave such an uncomfortable conversation. "T-thank you… I appreciate it."

She paused outside the door, bracing herself against the wall. That had been far easier than expected, but she still felt the wave of nausea that usually accompanied such strained encounters.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the main stair. He would doubtlessly tell Ichigo she had asked, but with any luck, that would be long after Orihime had already vanished.

Hurrying up the stairs, she slowed as she passed several maids, pretending to study the artwork decorating the walls. As soon as they were out of sight, she hurried on, making it to the third corridor without further incident.

Orihime hesitated before entering, only slightly anxious now that she was actually going inside his private chambers. She looked around, checking to see that no one was coming before walking in and closing the door behind her.

The room was well kept, without a scrap of clothing lying about anywhere.

It didn't appear to be the chamber of a lord. It was large, but there was very little in it and everything seemed to have a place.

Shaking herself from her musings, Orihime looked about with a critical eye. There. A small table with a drawer by the bed.

She crossed the room and sank to the floor.

Opening the drawer, Orihime found nothing. It was empty, not even one private artifact. She sat back on her heels. Was that normal? Come to think of it, she didn't see anything that could be considered personal in his room at all. She was tempted to try opening the wardobes.

Frowning at the strange thought, she turned back to the drawer and closed it with a click. Then she blinked and opened it again.

It was such a shallow drawer for such a long table. Orihime reached around the back and almost cried out with joy when her fingers ran over a catch. She flicked it open, sliding the panel out of the way and reaching inside.

It was difficult to tell what she was touching, certainly nothing that felt like her book. Her fingers closed over soft parchment. Inhaling sharply, Orihime tried not to bounce in her excitement as she pulled out a stack of letters.

There it was. A name. A name she recognized well. A name _anyone_ would recognize well. Kanji swam inky black circles in her vision.

She dropped the stack of letters.

"Liar."

Orihime yelped, on her feet in an instant and spinning around.

Ichigo closed the door behind him, his eyes darker than she had ever seen them. "And you lectured me on decorum."

Orihime watched his approach, fisting her small hands in her kimono to hide their shaking. He wasn't supposed to be here! Just how long had she spent staring out the window?

"What would all those nobles and aristocrats of yours think about you sneaking into my bedroom?"

"I was—"

"I know what you were doing."

Swallowing, Orihime took a deep breath. It didn't make any sense to hide it now. "I-I can't keep our agreement. I have to leave."

His gaze narrowed. "Leave. Why?"

"I told you, I can't keep our agreement."

He stepped closer, regarding her carefully.

"That's not an answer."

She couldn't meet his eyes when he was looking at her that way, but she was afraid to look away. "Please return my book."

"No."

Orihime jumped at the harshness of his tone, before licking her lips. "Then please return it to my father, he is the rightful owner."

Ichigo's hand latched around her arm and Orihime gasped. She hadn't even seen him move. His voice was dangerously soft.

"If you leave, I'll burn it."

He was so close, she could see the glittering bronze flecks in his otherwise dark irises.

"You won't."

"Inoue, I've killed men in cold blood and done things you wouldn't even speak of… What makes you think I give a damn about that book?"

He was trying to scare her. It was suddenly so clear to her that the relief almost made her legs buckle.

Her heart clenched inside her chest. "You won't."

Something shifted in his gaze and for a second he looked as if he were in pain. Orihime had the terrifying feeling she was falling as he painstakingly closed the small distance between them.

Then, she didn't feel anything but Ichigo.

His mouth was soft against hers, warm and sweet, shaded with a desperation that stole her breath away. She thought she should pull back, but it was fleeting as his hands slid down her arms, drawing her closer instead. Tingles pricked up her spine at the intimate contact and Orihime almost whimpered against the weight of emotion.

She wanted to touch him like he was touching her, wanted to rake her hands through the heat she could feel just under all that exasperating clothing of his, but as long fingers found the delicate skin at the base of her neck, she stopped thinking.

She gasped against his mouth as he slipped inside her, gently nipping her bottom lip before letting his tongue drag slow strokes against hers. He groaned low in the back of his throat and it was like being consumed by fire. Orihime burned even as shivers dropped into the hidden places of her core, and she would have done anything to hear him make that sound again.

Her hands clutched at his coat and the single button that held it closed slipping free, leaving only a thin wall of linen between her and all that warmth. It wasn't enough. Not touching enough, not feeling enough, not _close_ enough. She clawed at it, nails scraping hard, flat muscle, anxious to get at her prize.

Never had she imagined how he would respond.

He growled at her, hauling her body flush against his and deepening the kiss until she was panting and half wild with the force of it.

Orihime hadn't realized how the feel of him would heighten the sensations he evoked with his mouth. His hands quested restlessly over her back, tangling in her hair, all his frantic movements and growls feeding her courage. She slid her palms under his jacket, running them over the hard strength of his chest before winding around his neck, unintentionally pushing the cloth from his shoulders.

Whimpering as his hands disappeared, she felt him jerk before hearing the crumple of fabric hitting the floor. Then his lips were at her throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses before closing over her pulse point. He sucked on it and light flashed behind her eyes,

Orihime jerked as if she had been stricken by lightning.

For a tangled moment, the world returned around her, coming back in muddled hues and distorted shapes, and she would have pulled away if he hadn't done it again.

His teeth grazed across skin, searing nerve endings and slinging Orihime into a world of passion induced chaos. She was consumed. Everywhere he touched was lit with fire and electricity, and she was panting just to get air. Her body pulsed with need and want, aching with some unfamiliar craving. His shirt had come loose under her fingers and he hissed into her neck when her palms met hot flesh.

He shuddered, breathing hard, hands clenching almost painfully on her hips.

The top layers of her kimonos slid to the floor and she blinked at the fabric stupidly, wondering when she had untied them. Then his hands were on her, kneading sensitive flesh. He bit her collarbone and she cried out, begging with incoherent sounds.

She wasn't sure how it happened, one minute Ichigo was supporting most of her weight and the next her back was pressing into the mattress behind her. Heat gathered low in her belly, demanding and insistent, warmth pulsing between her legs as he trailed kisses down the curve of her breasts, pulling back the last layer of fabric.

Orihime gasped, trying to make her vision focus.

Any second she would be exposed to him and she had no idea how things had gotten so _far_. Orihime ducked under his arm and scrambled off the bed, backing away with shaky steps.

Ichigo looked baffled, breathing hard, confused as to why the space under him on the bed was suddenly empty. He blinked up at her, shaking himself slightly. "Where…?"

Taking another step back, Orihime glanced at the door, wondering how fast she could get through it if she ran. But he seemed to know what she was thinking, because he was off the bed in an instant.

Orihime jumped when her back hit a wardrobe and he closed the space before she knew what was happening. He took the distance far more gracefully than she had, still looking tousled and feral.

"Y-you can't." Her voice quivered with uncertainty and she was having trouble remembering why she was fighting him at all.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I—"

He nipped her ear with his teeth and she lost her train of thought.

"You…" Swallowing hard, she forced her mind into some semblance of function. "Are you… Are you making me an offer?"

"Huh…?" Ichigo pulled back, the first flicker of sense lighting his gaze. "What?"

"Are you making me a marriage offer?"

He looked startled, then confused. At last, he shook his head.

Until then, Orihime hadn't realized how much hope she had been harboring. It crumbled away with his denial, leaving her cold and alone. She took a deep breath, fighting the stinging in her eyes and pressing her lips to keep them from trembling. "Then, please let me go."

Ichigo hesitated then released her without a word, standing motionless as she edged around him.

Catching her clothing off the floor, Orihime shoved her arms into the sleeves, tying knots with haphazard, jerky movements before fleeing the room, more determined than ever to be free of Ichigo Kurosaki.

()()()

**A/N**

**Now, I know everyone's down on Ichigo right now, because he has a fiancée and all. But in his defense, they haven't actually ever met.**

**Small bananas, I know. **

**I really hope I'm not making him too hateable…**

**Anyway, please leave a review on your way out and let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Courting Darkness

**Authorial Notice:**

**This chapter was a little later than I wanted, but I'm hoping you guys won't hold it against me :)**

Chapter Nine

His employer stood looking at a window that dripped with rain. At last he turned, contemplating Gin for a moment over his shoulder, and Gin had to control his expression. There weren't any outward signs, but after months he had learned to read the man well.

He was irritated.

Brown eyes examined him carefully, as if he heard Gin's thoughts.

"Kurosaki, is it?"

"Who would'a thought? My Hichigo all proper and noble…" His eyes sweep over the impressive case beside him where insects of every shape and size were pinned down under thick glass. "Heard of him, have you?"

The man was watching him again, and Gin let his smile grow. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have been let past the servant's quarters, never mind into his private study.

"In my line, one gets to know these things. It's hardly relevant. We must get her away from him."

There was silence for a second as those words settled over the room.

Gin knew his employer had been fond of his plaything, but showing such a level of attachment…

He had slipped.

It seemed even _he_ wasn't above a mistake every now and again. That was good to know.

But it seemed his employor realized his error immediately, because he smiled in a way that made Gin itch to wrap his hand around a blade and the tension in his shoulders left, making him seem relaxed and at ease.

"Guess you're still set on keeping her, then?" He gave the glass beside him a light tap and watched as glittering wings shivered and sparkled in the light. "Be easier to kill 'er. Don't ya think?"

A hand locked around his wrist, silencing the tapping. Gin hadn't even seen the movement. He saw the beginning and he knew the end result, but everything in between was a mystery. Dangerous, dangerous…

"Many things are easy. Would you prefer in I simplified matters, Gin?"

Gin's smile widened.

"Me? Challenges are what make things interesting, don't ya think?"

Still looking as pleasant as ever, the man's hand released his. "That will be all. You may go."

Aizen turned back to the window as the door closed behind him. He took a deep breath, relishing the cool air that wafted from the glass's surface.

It was time to take more direct control.

Kurosaki Ichigo could pose a problem, but only if he realized the scope of the situation. As for Orihime…

A drop of condensation had formed on the window, slipping along slick surface, gathering the others around it until it fell to the sill.

Hinamori had been a mistake, a moment of weakness that it had been necessary to purge. It was regrettable and unforeseeable happenstance that placed Inoue Orihime in that alley at the exact moment he had decided to remedy that. If he had believed in a higher power, he might have even been tempted to call it divine retribution for some past crime. As it was, he would settle to call it irony.

Hinamori had been a moth; Orihime a golden butterfly, perched on the cusp of evolution, ready to transcend. He had waited patiently, carefully guarding, watching for the precise moment when she would be ready to shed her tenuous covering and emerge a resplendent conception.

She hadn't been aware, of course. He had to be fairly cautious, performing the role of generous benefactor as not to alarm her remarkable sense of insight. And he had been quite close.

But if he couldn't display his little butterfly as a stunning showpiece, he would be perfectly content to enjoy her in a more private setting.

()()()

Ichigo shut his office door after the official left, sighing and flexing his shoulders as he turned back, only to find Orihime hovering in the opposite doorway. Lesson paper dangled perilously from her arms.

"You… You told them about me."

Her lips trembled and his eyebrows snapped together. "I did not. That was about something else."

His scowl deepened as she bit her lip, uncertainty clouding her gaze. She didn't trust him. For some reason, it was worse that he knew he didn't deserve for her to trust him.

It had been three days since he had found her in his room and made a complete fool out of himself. The tension of their lessons had increased to the point where he was actively finding excuses not to go, even though he was the one that had insisted they continue them.

He hated the strained silences that stretched between them. More than anything, because he knew it wasn't her natural disposition.

Ichigo wanted to see the smile she gave to his sisters. He wanted to hear her laugh like she did when his father did something particularly irrational. Hell, even the servants were getting more of her heartwarming congeniality than he was. And today didn't seem like it was going to be any different.

He sighed, suddenly feeling completely exhausted.

"That was for Chad."

"Sado-kun?"

Her look was still doubtful, but he wasn't paying attention to that.

"Since when are you on a first name basis?"

Orihime blinked at the suspicion in his tone. "I'm not certain exactly when. Is he alright?"

"He's fine. It's just a formality."

"But if that was an agent of the law—"

"Look…"

Ichigo scratched his head, not sure how he had backed himself in the corner of telling her Chad's personal business. But somehow, her distrust seemed about ten times more daunting than anything he might face from his butler.

"When I got here, a lot of the servants were like Nanao. They didn't like or understand me most of the time, but Chad fixed all that. He set them straight."

"I don't understand what that has to do with—"

"I'm getting to that." He took another deep breath, pushing a hand into his hair. "He has this problem. He… He takes things."

"Sado-kun's a theif?"

Her surprise was evident.

"No. He's not a thief. Or at least, if he was he'd be terrible at it." He glanced up and looked away just as quickly. "He just takes stuff, weird stuff, cute stuff. He doesn't even want it, he just can't help it." Her face was full of astonishment and he found it was easier to speak if he didn't look directly at her. "So I made an arrangement. I give it back and they don't make a big deal about it."

Orihime was smiling and he felt heat creep up into his face.

He glared at the wall and pulled on his coat sleeves to hide it. "Not that it's any of your business."

When Ichigo looked back at her, she had wiped the smile from her face, but her eyes still held hints of light along with something else that made him want to crawl out from under the weight of her gaze.

"Oh…"

"Huh?" He twisted to see her tugging at a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her hairpins. Ichigo watched her struggle with it before plucking the missing pin free. "Here, turn around."

"W-What?"

He rolled his eyes and simply stepped around her, lifting the fallen tress, knowing better than to argue with her misplaced sense of propriety. It wasn't like there was anyone around to even see them.

She tried to turn and yelped when he still had hold of it. "Ouch."

"Quit wiggling."

When he didn't release, she had no choice but to stand silently and allow him to smooth and twist her hair back into place. He caught silken tangles and unsnarled them, so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice his hand brushing her neck until she jumped. The movement sent a jolt of awareness through him, his hands twitching with the wild urge to capture her.

Ichigo didn't know how long he would have stood there with his hands still stroking the fine hair on the nape of her neck if she hadn't started trembling. Or was that him?

He made himself step back, gathering one final deep breath of her scent.

She remained turned just within reach, testing his control. He cleared his throat.

"Done."

"What?"

"I'm finished."

Orihime turned, but he looked away, because a ray of light had fallen from the window, casting a golden halo over her head, throwing their situation into the stark relief of reality.

She was innocent, an angel to his inner demon and for a moment it was physically painful to just to look at her. He was suddenly aware of the soft white of her kimono in contrast to the darkness of his own clothing.

His gaze snapped up when she sniffed.

"All I wanted was a chance to study, but it seems no matter where I go, I'm nothing more than someone else's problem."

Panicking at the sight of unshed tears, Ichigo said the first thing his mind had latched onto.

"Study? What, like books?"

She nodded.

"It was my brother that taught me to read. The book of sutras was his before he died." Smiling, she wiped at her eyes. "Our home had an old library in the far wing. He used to take me there…"

"So why'd you leave?"

Orihime looked startled, as if she had forgotten he was there before she gave another haunted smile. "Daughters are supposed to go away."

Ichigo scowled. "Who told you that?"

Shaking her head, she didn't answer his question at all.

She was grieving.

He hadn't noticed that before, and he wanted to kick himself for being so oblivious. She was still mourning her brother. And her damn family was too stuck up and selfish to care.

"Come with me."

"Eh?"

When she didn't make any move to follow him, he latched onto her wrist, pulling her out of the room and ignoring the tingles of electricity that sparked where they touched.

Taking a candle from its holder, he attacked the stairs, dragging Orihime behind him. They climbed flight after flight until they reached one of the highest floors in the castle and Ichigo released her to push open a pair of solid wood doors.

He heard her gasp.

The walls were lined with shelves floor to ceiling, and stretching through several interconnected rooms. Every available space was packed with books. Some of them were so dust covered they couldn't be read. Ichigo stuck his hands in his pockets and watched as she turned circle after circle, stretching on her tip-toes to take everything in. Every once in a while, she made little noises of delight.

"You like it then?"

She stopped twirling and bit her lip, suddenly aware of herself again. Ichigo looked around to hide the small pinch of disappointment.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?

"I shouldn't act so childish. My mother would be appalled." She smiled, but he couldn't find any happiness in the expression, only a deep sadness.

He watched her finger a book, feeling oddly hostile to these people he had never met.

"Did you get to study much, when you lived with your parents?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. Not really, sometimes Sora would sneak me books into my rooms, but eventually they noticed and took away my candles at night."

Ichigo frowned.

"No light? How did you see."

Orihime laughed. "Not very well, I was terribly afraid of the dark."

He swore under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing." His hands curled into fists in his pockets.

She was still watching him so he moved to study another section of books. He turned back when she laughed. A real laugh. One that made her eyes sparkle.

"You really have a good heart, don't you?"

Ichigo froze, a hard lump forming that he couldn't swallow around.

No man had ever looked at Orihime the way he did in that moment. With eyes that held a yearning desire beside painful secrets. He looked like a man waiting for a death sentence.

She wasn't sure when it happened or who had moved, but it seemed as if the space between them shortened, leaving only the most fragile of distances. Orihime watched the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed.

"You think I have a heart?"

For a second, Orihime couldn't speak to answer him. "Of course you have a heart."

He looked away, still doubtful and uncertain, revealing a choked longing that sent stabs of pain through her chest. In spite of everything he had done, the people he had helped and his family's admiration, he still doubted his own humanity?

"Everything that has a soul has a heart. Some are good, some not very good, and some maybe evil."

"Like me."

She reached out before she could rethink the action and turned his face back to hers. "No one that's helped as many people as you have could be evil."

His eyes were so deep Orihime thought she could throw a stone into them and never hear it touch the bottom, and she was falling.

Hands moved to bring her closer, anchoring her to him, holding her like a lifeline, and Ichigo leaned forward, tilting her face up and brushing his mouth against hers in the softest kiss she had ever felt. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, tasting it before lowering his head back to hers.

It was nothing more than a sweet sharing of warmth between them, but there was so much need and pain that Orihime's breath caught in her throat.

She couldn't.

There was so much hurt flowing just under his touch, it felt as though her heart would shatter from the resonance of it. But she couldn't stop either. She could no more deny him what he needed than she could halt the blood flowing under the surface of her own skin.

After a long minute, he pulled back and just looked at her.

Then, he laughed, a sharp, brittle sound, and releasing her, he stepped away.

"Guess I offended etiquette again."

He glanced at her and when she didn't respond, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and cleared his throat.

"No one ever comes up here, so you can do whatever you want with it. Just tell Chad if you need anything moved."

She stood in a state of shock as he left and at last, when she could no longer hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway, she sank into a chair.

Orihime didn't know how it had happened, but she was so in love with Ichigo Kurosaki that she was willing to abandon all her principles just to touch him. She must have an inherently low nature to succumb to temptation such as this. After everything, was she truly just a mirror of her mother? Would she also be destined to fall in and out of love with every man that crossed her path?

Tears fell over her sleeves and she watched small stains form in misery. She hadn't even been aware that she was crying. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed the wetness from her eyes with the back of her hand.

She had already been in love, but the devastation was incomparable. It was silly when she thought about it, how much hope one person could place on another.

There had been many times in her life that Orihime had felt grief. When her brother had died, of course. And then, when she realized that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be a replacement for a son. And the last, when she found out the man she loved and might have married was nothing more than a lie.

How he had deceived her so completely, she wasn't certain. After all, he had never promised her anything, never spoke a word of endearment or careless praise.

And none of that had mattered to her in the least.

What mattered was that he had brought a warm smile and a carefree grace that Orihime rarely saw. When he looked at her, she felt as if she had been seen for the first time since her brother's death. And she was free again.

She fell in love. His easily amused eyes, his charm, the effortless refinement that Orihime had to work so hard to obtain. She basked in the knowledge that she was important to someone again, and she lived her life in those moments.

Then, he vanished, leaving behind a monster in his place, someone Orihime didn't recognize at all.

Staring at him in that alley, she had wanted to rush at him, to beat at his chest until he gave back everything she had though her life was up to that point, but she found she was suddenly frightened of him, so she ran. He hadn't simply killed that poor, unfortunate girl in that alley, he had also killed every part of himself that Orihime had threaded into her heart.

And now, another had walked into all those empty places that betrayal had left in her life. Only this man seemed to fill those cracks so much fuller, as if he was too much to be contained in any limited space. She was stretched so much around him that she knew without a doubt that if he were removed her heart would crumble into nothingness.

But she could never allow Ichigo to suspect her true feelings, because he— Hichigo, was just ruthless enough to use the truth against her in order to coerce her to stay.

With a heavy sigh, Orihime sank down to the floor and pulled her knees into her chest in a way she hadn't done since she was a little girl. Somehow she had to survive the next few weeks. Just until Ichigo had his fiancée, then she would be packed up and shipped off to America.

()()()

There you have it, the Orihime backstory. Did I earn myself a review from all those AiHime fan girls out there?


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Courting Darkness

Authorial Notice:

I must apologize to my reviewers for the lack-of and/or late response. And sadly, it will probably continue happening. But that doesn't mean I do not see and love your reviews, just that my time has become limited.

And on that happy note, I will be on a temporary writing hiatus sometime in the next few weeks as I am having babies. Yay! My goal was to finish this story first and don't worry, I will still be trying my hardest to do that. Good news is that it means faster updates, bad news is I have no idea when they will decide to come. Because twins are unpredictable like that. Sigh…

Anyway, I might still be able to sneak in a few updates, but after they're here, I wouldn't expect anything for around two or three months. Yikes!

Chapter Ten

A week after Ichigo had given her the library, Orihime decided that she couldn't bear being trapped in the castle any longer. The rain over the past several days had kept her inside, but upon the first opportunity, she took a horse out to see Ichigo's family.

She truly enjoyed their company. And Orihime could honestly say that even with the occasional violent quirk, she had never seen a family that so obviously cared for one another. It always sent strange pangs of longing burrowing into her heart.

It would be difficult to part with them after Ichigo married.

Orihime sighed, shivering in the heavy air.

It was going to rain again. She had always loved the rain, ever since she had been little. The sky filling with water, falling from heaven and bathing the world, leaving everything new and beautiful again. Rain had always seemed so magical as a child.

She wondered what her parents were doing.

Probably fighting, she mused, or not. They did try to avoid each other whenever possible.

Sighing, Orihime reached down to drag her palm along the mare's neck, giving the gentle creature a loving pat.

Maybe they had finally discovered she was missing. Orihime certainly didn't envy Aunt Matsumoto if that was the case. Her parents still seemed to have some notion about Orihime marrying into wealth, or maybe they simply enjoyed bickering with her aunt. But she supposed, she would never know. It would be far too dangerous to try to contact her family, if she wanted to at all.

Orihime bit her cheek, ashamed at the path her thoughts had taken. Of course, she cared about her her father and mother. They were all she had, and she was the only child they had left. Surely, that had to mean something.

Before she knew it, the temple emerged from the forest, parting moist foliage with thick grey stone. Dismounting, she tied her mare to a stone figurine, making certain there was plenty of lush grass within easy reach and began climbing the length of stairs to the top while straightening the wrinkles from her kimono.

Lady Shihōin was scheduled to arrive in five days. Even with the poor weather, the castle had been buzzing with activity.

Orihime had taken to changing formal lessons with Ichigo into more practical things like preparations. The castle was cleaned top to bottom, food menus set, guest rooms arranged and waiting. He had even managed to find her a chaperone that would arrive in a day or so. Then, after everything was finished, Orihime would be free to leave.

Everything would be exactly as it should.

That was what she kept telling herself.

Orihime crossed the temple's courtyard, listening to the gentle tinkle of bells as the wind stirred the shine. Clasping her hands, she made the customary bow before offering a small prayer for her brother.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't notice she was no longer alone.

"Come to make an offering?"

"Eep!" Orihime spun, spotting Ichigo's father and quickly bowing again. "I'm very sorry Houshi-sama! I-I didn't see you there."

"Hmm…?"

She stood, startled when his eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, right…" Orihime blinked as he scratched his neck with a sheepish smile and jovial laugh. "That's me. Please, call me Isshin. So what brings you here, Lady Inoue?"

Orihime returned his smile. It would have been nearly impossible not to. "The castle was so busy… I think I was just hoping for a bit of quiet."

"Well, we have plenty of that around here."

He turned, moving toward the temple's portico, and she followed. They were barely under the covering when rain began to fall.

"I never liked that place, myself. Too big. Nearly got lost every time I tried to find the dining room."

Orihime laughed, covering her mouth at the last moment. "It is large. Is that why you live here?"

He looked at her before smiling again.

"You're pretty sharp. That son of mine must be in trouble."

"Eh? W-why do you say that?"

Orihime watched him carefully from under lowered lashes. Had she unintentionally given something away? Did he know?

Isshin snorted.

"Ichigo's strong and he's got good instincts, but the boy can be downright slow sometimes. Especially, when dealing with matters of the heart."

"The… The heart?"

"That's right. Any woman that marries him will have to be gifted with a great deal of patience."

Her eyes closed on their own and a lance of pain flashed through her chest. She swallowed before finding her voice. "I'm certain Lady Shihōin will be glad for such wise advice."

Orihime realized she had stopped walking when he paused, waiting for her.

"Mmm… Perhaps." He laughed, the noise so sudden it startled her all over again. "Let's find the girls, they always get excited when you come to visit, right Orihime-chan?"

She blushed furiously at his use of her name, but her mouth drew into the first genuine smile she had felt in days.

"Right."

Orihime followed, glancing back over her shoulder to the rain dripping from the curved roof. She truly was going to miss this.

()()()

It was another sunless afternoon.

Ichigo stood looking toward the window as Ishida Uryu finished knotting his tie and stood back with a critical eye. More rain. That was all he needed. And today of all days, when his fiancée was scheduled to arrive.

"Think it will rain before this afternoon?"

Uryu turned him back, making small, frustrated noises in the back of his throat. "I don't doubt. Now stand straight and let me fit you properly."

Ichigo turned to Chad who was holding a tray of pins at the ready.

"Remember your promise. No taking any of her things."

"I remember. You can trust me."

He sighed as Ishida turned him again, but couldn't find the energy to complain. "I know I can. Have you seen Inoue?"

"Lady Inoue is awaiting you in the sitting room with Lady Arisawa."

Ichigo frowned for a moment before the confusion cleared and he realized Chad was referring to Tatsuki. His frown turned into a scowl as Ishida began attacking his jacket with a lint brush. "Alright, already. Go harass someone else."

He watched his tailor's eyes narrow behind thin framed glasses before he complied, moving away.

Tatsuki had been a last minute addition. A precaution in case Lady Shihōin wasn't satisfied with his sisters' presence. She and Inoue had gotten along seamlessly. Too well almost. He'd been forced to endure sneaky taunts and looks for the past several days. Particularly in any area where Inoue was involved. And his father and sisters had temporarily relocated to the castle, which had only succeeded in making the time until his fiancée's visit nearly unbearable.

But by far, it was his own thoughts that were causing him the most misery. He wasn't looking forward to meeting the woman as much as he'd thought. And he knew why.

It was Orihime.

He couldn't even be in the same room with her anymore without wanting to touch her. Which wasn't new, it had been that way since they had first met on the rooftops of Rukongai. She had tried so hard to get away from him, was _still_ trying. And he couldn't figure out _why_ she wanted to get away so badly. He knew she desired him, wanted his touch as much as he wanted hers, but it was as if she hated herself for it.

He supposed that made sense. Despite her words in the library, she still knew what he was. It was stupid to think she would willingly subject herself to Hichigo.

She had seen the darkest part of his soul and it repulsed her. He should have known. Inoue was innocent. A fairytale princess. Only, this princess didn't want to be rescued. She was determined to save herself and in the process, run as far away from him as possible. How could he have thought she would lower herself to being with someone like him?

She might want him, but she could never love him.

And still, even though he knew that, she kept him awake at night. Pacing his room, resisting temptation. Barely. Once, he had even found himself outside her door without remembering how he had gotten there. Only the thought of how she would look at him afterward kept him from going to her.

Never had he had so much trouble resisting a female.

But Inoue _wasn't_ any other female.

What was it between them? What did she feel for him? What did he feel for her?

No… Damn it. It was too late for thoughts like these. It didn't matter. His fiancée would arrive within the hour, and after that, after he and Lady Shihōin had reached an agreement, he would never see Orihime again.

Ichigo groaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

"Damn it…"

"What are you babbling about, Kurosaki?"

He frowned. "Nothing. Am I finished?"

Ishida narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing his form with an intensely absorbed look until Ichigo squirmed. "Quite. There are, I believe, very few lords as well fitted. Straight shoulders. Narrow waist. The jacket is cut to set off the appeal of your figure—"

"Stop." Ichigo scowled as he made his way to the door, ignoring the way his skin crawled under the expensive cloth. "Enough about my figure. I can do without you talking about my figure. Ever."

"Kurosaki."

"What?"

"Shoving your hands into your pockets will ruin the line of your suit."

Ichigo cursed.

"I'm never going to get this."

Chad grunted, looking thoughtful until at last, he spoke. "Once Lady Shihōin sees you, she will forgive any lapses."

Ichigo blinked before flushing all the way to his roots. "I don't want you two talking anymore."

()()()

Orihime folded her arms in front of her to hide their shaking as she gazed out the window.

Her companion had left to accomplish some personal business, and Orihime hoped she would return soon. For some reason, talking to her took away some of her anxiety over the upcoming events. Lady Tatsuki was… unusual. Orihime had never heard another lady curse. Other than her aunt, of course.

Hearing the door open, she turned, preparing a smile for the other girl only to have it fall when she realized it was Ichigo, not Tatsuki, who had entered.

He froze in the doorway.

Orihime licked her lips, opening her mouth to speak when there was a commotion from the hall.

They stared at each other, the only sounds were these of the front doors and servants hurrying out to the drive.

At last, and with all her effort behind it, Orihime smiled. "She's here."

He frowned, but she continued before he could say anything to make it harder. "You should be there to greet her."

His family and Tatsuki chose that moment to burst into the room, bubbling with last minute questions.

Ichigo barely managed to keep them from hurrying after him in an undignified mob. Instead, Isshin escorted Orihime and Tatsuki was left to lead the girls, and they proceeded in a stately manner down the drive to greet their guests.

They were just in time to see the footman open the door and hand out a woman with an impassive expression. Her lips pressed into a firm line, glossy black hair pulled back and cut straight across her forehead. From the information Ichigo had given her, she imagined that this woman was Lady Shihōin's chaperone, Suì-Fēng. As soon as she had exited the vehicle, she turned back and retrieved a sleek black cat on a pillow.

Ichigo looked startled by its appearance before he schooled his expression into polite indifference, and reached back into the carriage. Orihime tensed, fingers curling into Isshin's arm as a new hand came into view before it transformed into the shape of a woman.

Lady Shihōin emerged and everyone stared.

She was stunning. Orihime thought that she could easily be compared to Aunt Matsumoto who was famed as one of the most beautiful women in Japan. Her features held an exotic edge, purple hair swept back and up, held away from her bronze face and golden eyes by long jeweled pins and combs.

As soon as she had descended, she turned, issuing a complicated set of instructions to different servants. When she finished, Suì-Fēng stepped forward, gesturing to Ichigo. The Lady seemed to notice him for the first time, and Orihime felt her nails sinking deeper into the arm at her side.

Yoruichi blinked, before a playful smile curved her lips and she extended her hand.

"Shihōin-sama, I present the Lord Kurosaki Ichigo."

The smile on the woman's face deepened, taking on a wicked quality. "Kurosaki-sama."

"Lady Yoruichi."

Ichigo shifted under the woman's gaze. It traveled all the way down his body and back up, finally coming to rest back on his face. To his dismay, he fought the urge to blush under her not quite subtle appreciation.

She mumbled something in a strange language under her breath. Her companion's face flushed, and somewhere close by he thought he heard Inoue choke. When he turned, Yuzu was slapping her back as his family looked on in concern and he remembered that he was supposed to introduce them.

He made no mistakes, to his relief, introducing his father first and then Inoue and Tatsuki, then his sisters all according to rank before leading the way inside.

Ichigo had to work to keep his customary scowl to a minimum.

Whenever he had walked with Inoue, he had always had to relax his gait, slowing in order to keep with her unhurried pace. Escorting Lady Yoruichi was like being a servant scurrying after a monarch. She strode briskly, walking ahead of everyone except Ichigo, who had to extend his stride to keep up.

He released her into a chair by the fire, watching as his family took up opposite seating. The servants brought tea and Ichigo blanked when the lady's attention once again came to rest on him. He glanced at Inoue, relieved when she mouthed his next line.

"Uh, how was your trip?" Ichigo had only Inoue's slight panicked expression and the dark-headed, companion's glare to tell him he had done something wrong. He went back over his sentence and barely stopped a curse as he amended himself. "Lady Yoruichi."

Damn titles. They were expected to marry. Why the hell was everything still so formal?

"Long and dull. The man that invented those contraptions clearly didn't have such an old lady's posterior in mind."

Ichigo had moved to stand by the fire, and was vaguely aware that his mouth had fallen open. He closed it as his eyes met Inoue's. They hadn't discussed any sort of polite response to a comment like that. She stared back, wide-eyed. Even his father seemed to be at a loss, something Ichigo would have sworn was impossible.

"O-oh?"

He realized a second too late that he had left an open-ended invitation for her to continue, and relaxed tense shoulders when she merely nodded, opting instead to contemplate his physique.

Her disconcerting eyes flicked back to his. "I've always found it's always best to place these things in the open, so I will be blunt."

Ichigo felt himself growing bewildered. Did she not consider her earlier comment blunt?

"I am here to see if we will be agreeable in marriage. I plan to inform you of my thoughts and opinions, and then… we will see."

He blinked.

"So, I might as well tell you that I approve of your appearance."

This conversation wasn't at all what he had been led to believe. Ichigo threw Inoue another desperate glance, only to see that she had gone pale.

Lady Yoruichi gave him another cursory examination, and he half expected her to run her hands up his legs and check his teeth.

"Yes." Her gaze shifted to Orihime. "Lady Inoue, you may show me to my rooms. Come along, Soifong."

Ichigo stood in a daze as she swept from the room, trailing Inoue and Suì-Fēng behind her. He stumbled as his father slapped him on the back.

"What's wrong, Ichigo? Too much woman for you?"

Ichigo sunk into a chair.

"She's… nice, Oni-chan. Don't you think she's nice, Karin?"

Karin gave a non-committal grunt.

"See? We like her…"

He didn't bother to respond. He was too busy adjusting, and then readjusting, his thoughts. Because until that moment, he hadn't realized exactly how much, he had expected Lady Yoruichi to be like Inoue Orihime.


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Courting Darkness

**Authorial Notice:**

**Ah! I'm officially back! And you guys thought I'd forgot about this story.**

**Well, be sure to go visit **_**akito kyo**_** and thank her for this chapter, seeing as she gave me the encouragement necessary to put it out. So thanks for that, Akito-chan!**

Chapter Eleven

The day after Lady Shihōin arrived, Orihime stood rubbing her arms, watching Ichigo and Yoruichi stroll through the garden from the window of her library.

She had no idea what to feel about the castle's newest guest.

Lady Shihōin was as overwhelming as a force of nature. She was… Orihime didn't have the words. Unpredictable, sprung to mind. Shocking. That didn't seem sufficient. The woman alternated between ogling their host and making comments Orihime was certain were only intended to cause her audience the most possible discomfort.

And there were times, she would swear the woman was laughing at them with her eyes. If that weren't enough, she even flirted shamelessly with Ichigo's father, causing Ichigo to develop a strange tick over his eye every time his father entered a room.

Never the less, even though Orihime had been determined to avoid them, Lady Yoruichi had taken a liking to her for no explainable reason. She insisted Orihime accompany them everywhere, although Orihime would have liked nothing better than to hide in her room for the duration of the Lady's visit.

That was how she found herself pacing the library, the long sleeves of her silver-violet kimono stirring up dust, as she fought not to spy on the unsuspecting couple below. It made her stomach queasy to see them together and she hated herself for feeling that way. She had _known_ this was coming. So why had it still caught her so unprepared?

There was no use being upset now.

She paused by the window, seeing Lady Shihōin link her arm through Ichigo's, leaning on him heavily.

Orihime felt her lip tremble as a terrible weight clenched her chest. She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to be ill as she turned away with a hand pressed to her middle. It took several deep breaths before she was certain she wouldn't swoon.

A shuddering sigh escaped and she bit her lip.

"Don't, Orihime. Don't cry again. He… He wants a great lady, not some half grown, cast-off with too many secrets. You were fooling yourself…"

Turning her back to the window, Orihime forced herself to take several steps away. She sighed, picking up a book and dusting it off.

How had she gotten into such a terrible mess? Why hadn't she just left when she found out where Ururu and Jinta were being kept?

Orihime sniffed, feeling her tears ease. That was exactly what she should do. Leave while Ichigo was preoccupied with his fiancée. He would have a hard time catching her with Lady Yoruichi still appended to one arm.

"Oh!"

Orihime shook the ugly thoughts away.

Moping wouldn't do any good. She needed to think about something else. Maybe she could go find Tatsuki or Ichigo's sisters. But that would mean leaving the library and the place had practically become her sanctuary.

She looked around, her eyes falling on a table in disarray with dusty books. She began to stack them, blowing away dust to expose titles and covers that hadn't seen the light in years, when footsteps began to sound in the hall.

Her heart faltered for a moment, before she realized it was only one set of feet, and therefore could hardly be Yoruichi come to find her out. Still… They sounded familiar—

She squeaked as it occurred to her exactly whom those steps belonged to. Whirling, she looked for a place to hide, but it was already too late as the door opened at her back and she stiffened. Her knuckles turned white on the thick leather volume in her hands.

The footsteps paused and she could feel that molten hot gaze on her back though five layers of silk.

He took a step and the book slipped through her fingers, the thump and flutter of pages echoing through the otherwise silent room. Orihime swallowed, staring at the fallen article, willing her body to bend to retrieve it when the steps came closer and a long, tanned arm stretched into her field of vision and picked it up.

Ichigo flipped the book over in his hands before holding it out so she could take it.

"T-Thank you."

She didn't look up, frightened of what she was certain to see in his eyes. Instead, she stepped away, putting distance where it was definitely needed.

"Yoruichi is looking for you."

Mouth falling open, she barely stopped herself from spinning to face him. Pain, hot and sharp lanced through her and she fisted her empty hand into her Kimono.

Carefully and with measure deliberateness, she sat the book onto its stack, pulling her hand back quickly when she noticed its shaking.

"A—" Her throat closed and she had to try again. "A gentleman does not address a lady without a title."

Ichigo stepped around the table and into her line of sight, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he studied a shelf of books.

"So? Wasn't it you that said guest's wishes were always followed?"

"She… She asked you to call her that?"

She allowed her gaze to settle on Ichigo's pleased expression and the floor felt as if it had dropped from beneath her. Lips trembling, she clenched her hands at her side. She thought of how he had bowed and scraped before the woman. How he'd listened to such an improper suggestion and thrown everything Orihime had taught him out the window before the end of the second day.

Hot tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "H-How could you fawn over that a-awful woman?"

Ichigo blinked before his agreeable demeanor vanished.

"Fawn?" He narrowed his eyes and turned, stalking her around the table. "You were the one who said for me to be agreeable. You were the one who said never contradict a lady. Did you or did you not tell me not to contradict Lady Shihōin?"

"About inconsequential things…"

Orihime stumbled back a step, keeping the table between them, aware of his temper, but too hurt not to snap back.

"I didn't say you should abandon all propriety! And you certainly don't have to support the indecent nature of a person with so little modesty or sensitivity."

The tears were close now, moments from falling and she turned away so that he wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing it. Without warning, Ichigo took a step that put him very close to her.

He spoke softly.

"Aww… Hime, you're jealous."

Orihime spun, hearing that quiet, menacing note in his voice. Hichigo was back.

"W-What?"

The endearment was clearly meant to pacify her, but instead it muddled her mind, making it difficult to think clearly. Her tongue refused to form any other words.

Lowering his chin, he lifted his gaze to her burning face.

Orihime felt herself grow warm, then cold. Ice tickled her spine. The smoke from the lowest circle of hell couldn't have been as hot or as dark as those eyes. In his expression was written a contract with pagans and demons. Orihime found it hard not to back down from that stare.

She twisted away and he laughed softly, reaching up to run a knuckle down the tender hair on the nape of her neck.

"It's all right."

Shivers wracked her, but she couldn't move away. "I…I…I'm not jealous."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, because she couldn't catch her breath, but Hichigo grinned. She could feel it. He was getting closer, warmth permeating through her clothing to scorch the skin of her back. His breath tickled her ear—

No.

She whirled, staggered out of his reach and what she saw made her belly cinch. His gaze held all the fierce desire of ravenous tiger, and it was fixed in its entirety, on her.

Why? Why was he doing this?

Orihime bolted for the door, sight blurred by tears.

She couldn't do it. She was so weak right now, not herself. There was no way she could face Hichigo down in such a state.

Orihime wrenched open the door and flew down the hall, taking stairs as fast as her feet would rise and fall. She had to get away. She couldn't do this any longer. It was torture. Promise or not, love or not, she couldn't stay another second.

She listened for the sounds of pursuit, but heard nothing and relaxed slightly as the hall leading to her rooms came into sight. Slowing, she looked around to make sure she hadn't been seen running at such an undignified pace before deciding she didn't care. In half an hour, it wouldn't matter anyway. She would be gone from here, gone from Ichigo. Forever.

Hands latched onto her from behind and she drew in a breath to scream right before a palm closed over her mouth. His scent filled her nose and she didn't have to wonder who it was as she was unceremoniously hauled into the room beside hers.

The door slammed shut behind them.

As soon as she was released, Orihime turned to face Hichigo at his worst.

The room seemed to grow dark, as if great thunderclouds had formed his escort and darkened the light from the windows. When his chin lowered and he directed that Hichigo stare at her, Orihime's tears dried in her eyes. It held jungle heat and arctic chill at the same time. And if the effort took ten years off her life, she wasn't going to allow him to intimidate her.

"Leaving again?" He eased nearer with that unconscious grace that marked all his movements. His head tilted to the side and he considered her. "I got some information about the night you disappeared."

She hadn't expected that. Her eyes widened and she searched for something to do so that she wouldn't be forced to look at him. There was a table to her left and she moved to sit at it while she scrambled for her bearings. Hichigo stalked behind her, following without sound. He leaned over her, one palm placed on the table as she avoided his gaze.

"A girl was killed, a girl named Hinamori. Did you know her?"

Orihime shook her head, long tresses jostling over her shoulders. She stared at her lap, refusing to look up and Hichigo leaned closer, voice deceptively soft.

"She was stabbed then left to bleed out in the street. She was a prostitute. A thirteen year old girl. There was blood everywhere—"

"_Please. Please, Don't..." _She squeezed her eyes shut to block her memories of Hinamori Momo, fingers gripping her skirt hard enough to bend her nails back. "That poor child..."

"Thought you didn't know her."

Her eyes flew open and she cried out when his hand hit the table beside her.

"Who did you see?"

"No… I won't tell you."

She gasped as Ichigo grabbed her arms and dragged her out of the chair to face him.

"Whoever he is, he'll hunt you down. Do you understand? A man that kills a thirteen year old girl is a monster. Do you want that to be you? America won't be far enough."

"He won't know I've gone there."

She winced as he tightened his grip.

"You're not leaving until you tell me."

"I-Ichigo, you're hurting me."

He cursed and released her so quickly she fell into the chair.

"I won't let you go."

"You'll have to…"

He leaned down and tilted up her chin until she was forced to meet his eyes, and she didn't understand why his voice went soft. "I never lose, Hime."

Once again, the endearment sent butterflies soaring through her stomach. "You will this time."

The light in his eyes was entrancing.

"What makes you think so?"

"Because, Lady Shihōin is going to accept your marriage proposal."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Short, but I had to stop there because it was getting too long with the next part. Good news, I have most of the next part all planned out. Yay!**

**Now, please be sure to do that thing you all do so well and let me know what you think about where the story is headed. Thanks!**


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Courting Darkness

Chapter Twelve

Ichigo was still fuming on the afternoon following his and Orihime's argument. Yet he was forced to behave as if he were relaxed and untroubled in the company of Lady Shihōin. And that proved to be a battle of will over inclination, because Lady Shihōin had begun to lose her appeal within the first few moments he had known her.

Still, he endured his duty as host to the lady, despite his growing disenchantment with her, and what had been his reward?

Inoue, as obstinate and feisty as an angry kitten.

_Fawn_…

Ichigo kicked at some rocks on the bank of the stream beside the shrine.

He sure as hell didn't _fawn_. Besides, that was what he had thought she wanted. He hadn't done one thing that Orihime hadn't personally instructed him to do, and now she was pissy about it?

He growled.

Behind him lay soaring ruins, peeking from the forest and scraping the sky, and beneath them, on the grassy meadow that led to the stream, his guests were engaged in a picnic. The weather had presented them with an idle summer day, and upon seeing the crystal blue sky, Lady Shihōin had insisted upon an outing, and had harassed Ichigo into complying.

Even Orihime was forced to come, although she had attempted to protest, saying there were letters to write and studies to complete in the library. All of which was clearly fabricated. Ichigo knew there was no one she could write. But it hadn't mattered. All had given way before the tank engine of Lady Shihōin's will.

His fiancée had commandeered the finest of his china, his best tables, chairs, and linens, and arranged a picnic on the grassy slope. She declared the temple the perfect setting. Since everyone knew her taste to be the finest, having been assured of it by the lady herself, her arrangements prevailed.

Ichigo glanced to the group sitting at the table.

Lady Shihōin sat at the head in a chair with velvet cushions. His sisters flanked her. Both were keeping their gazes fixed on their plates while Tatsuki, in her guise as Orihime's chaperone, did her best to make conversation with Yoruichi and his father laughed far too loudly. Orihime sat on the other side.

Ichigo scowled at her, but her attention was fixed upon Yoruichi.

As he watched, she stiffened at some remark, blushed and turned, retrieving a delicately painted ivory fan. It was one Ichigo had seen in Tokyo and sent for after they came to Karakura. After being persuaded to accept it, Orihime had vowed to repay him for all of clothing he'd provided. Not that he would ever accept her money.

Orihime froze, mouth falling open and eyes widening as she blinked up at Yoruichi, who seemed oblivious. She flicked the fan open and turned away, using it as a delicate shield to hide her from the other woman.

In spite of himself, Ichigo grinned. He had never seen a more enjoyable sight than Orihime Inoue driven to abandon propriety and insult an acquaintance. He watched her stare at her plate while she tried to become small enough not to be noticed.

His good humor faded.

She had reproved him for being a gentleman to Lady Shihōin. After all their lessons, all his practicing, she had censored him. And all because she didn't like the woman... Not because she was jealous.

Ichigo nudged a rock over and watched as it rolled down the bank to land in the water. He would never be able to forget how his chest had tightened when she'd burst out with that tirade against Lady Shihōin. It was as if fireworks had burst inside him. If Orihime was jealous, then she must care for him. And if she cared for him…

Kneeling at the edge of the water, Ichigo picked up another stone and tossed it into the stream. In the distance, he could hear Shihōin's fanfare interspersed with Tatsuki's determined comments. Whatever happened between him and Orihime, he wasn't going to listen to that overly loud racket for the rest of his life. Waking up to her would be worse than waking to his father.

He'd been wrestling with the problem of how to extricate himself from her. He wasn't certain exactly when he decided Lady Shihōin was unbearable. Perhaps it was the first time he'd intercepted that appraising look of hers. There had been something in Lady Shihōin's cunning gaze that reminded him of life in Rukongai.

Tossing another stone into the water, he sighed.

"You're an ass, Kurosaki."

He hurled a stone with such violence that he was sprayed by water.

He knew what he wanted, and it was ironic. He'd spent most of his life hiding behind the darker side of himself, taking what didn't belong to him, living a lie. And now, the one thing he truly wanted, was just outside his grasp and no skill Hichigo possessed, no skill _Ichigo_ possessed could get it for him.

But he could save himself from Lady Shihōin.

He would take her for a drive. When they came back from the village through the forrest, where there was privacy, he would tell her he was withdrawing his offer. She would be furious, but she'd have to get over it. He just hoped she didn't shriek at him. He had a feeling Yoruichi could screech like a train whistle.

It was strange.

He had thought a new life would wipe out the memories of his childhood. He had wanted to do away forever with that little boy who had stood in front of the vending stalls begging for scraps.

Sometimes he still dreamed of that. In these dreams, he was small again, so small he had to reach up to been seen over the table. His face was dirty, his bare feet were dirty, and his yukata was too thin to keep out the cold. But he had to wait in the dark, in the frost of early morning for the food stalls to open, and when the owners arrived he must make himself presentable, tugging at the tie of his obi that was too small for him. He had to make low bows and speak humbly as the others had taught him, begging for scraps.

He woke from these dreams feeling that terrible burning hunger and shivering, not from cold, but from fear. The worry that his sisters wouldn't survive the time it took him to return with just enough food to keep them all alive.

Ichigo looked over his shoulder at Lady Shihōin, who was waving her hand at Chad. This constant pretending, crawling on his belly for her approval, reminded him of the food stalls. Constantly. If he married her, he would forever feel like that dirty little boy tugging at his clothes, looking up into the hard eyes of the owners and trying so very hard to be humble and polite.

()()()

He fucking _hated_ the country.

Grimmjow swiped at a butterfly that fluttered around his head, tickling him with its wings.

It was hot and full of empty space where there should be buildings. There were no taverns, no gambling, and instead of cheap, barely clad women, there were animals. Disgusting, lousy, _animals_.

He crouched in the undergrowth, miserable for lack of drink, swallowing the road dust picked up by the wind. His men were hid on the opposite side, by Yammy. They'd been waiting ever since he heard that Hichigo was driving out with a lady.

This kind of evasive, cowardly ambush, made him fucking sick. He sure as _hell_ had been doing fine on his own when Gin called a halt to his activities, substituting a plan of their employer's personal devising. The stuck up prick.

The man produced an intimate knowledge of Karakura, its inhabitants, and it's routine. Also, informing him of the particular friendship between Lady Inoue and Hichigo. Grimmjow could have told him that in the first place. Any woman who spent more than an hour in Hichigo's company could be expected to lose every ounce of sense— assuming they had any. It was fucking disgusting.

So now, here he was, waiting in the fucking bushes, in the growing chill and lengthening shadows. And if Hichigo didn't come soon, it would be too dark to do the job right. That bastard could disappear into the darkness better and faster than any other shit Grimmjow had ever seen. He could cut a man down before anyone even knew he was there.

Grimmjow shoved the shrubbery aside and tried to peer down the road. Farther down, a quarrel erupted between Yammy and Nnoitora.

He growled.

"Shut up, you fags, I hear somethin'!"

From a distance came the clip of hooves, the jingle of bridles, and the clatter of carriage wheels over rock.

Grimmjow shrank back into the hedges, barking out orders.

"And don't fuckin' move until I say."

Down the road came a horse drawn litter, its black lacquered sides and red paint shining even in the fading light. Inside, sat a woman and beside her—

Grimmjow hissed.

Hichigo in fine black silk and hand stitched clothing. There was a name emblazoned in gold kanji on the side of the carriage and if he didn't know any better, he'd swear it was _real_ gold paint. Not the cheap stuff they used on his side of Tokyo… And where was his damn katana? Hichigo never went anywhere without that sword. Bastard'd gotten cocky.

"Mother fuc—"

He'd almost allowed it to slip past them. Filling his lungs, Grimmjow bellowed.

"Now!"

Yammy grabbed the horses, jerking the lead hard enough to turn their heads into the ground. The pair baulked and reared, causing the carriage to slam to a stop. Two more of Yammy's men rushed to capture them while Grimmjow and his three bolted out of the hedges, drawing swords.

Hichigo was fast, much faster than Grimmjow remembered. He was halfway out of the cart, an instant from incapacitating Yammy with a well-placed kick when Grimmjow yelled and he froze.

"Wouldn't do that if I was you. Not unless you want the kid cut up into pieces."

He punctuated with a nasty grin and held up the green-haired brat that squealed around a gag, watching as Hichigo's eyes narrowed into angry slits.

"Nel…"

Grimmjow growled, shaking her by the scruff of the neck. "Bitch, I knew you were lying. Filthy little—"

She yowled, glaring, and tried to kick his crotch. Curling his lip, he tossed her to one of his men and turned back to the couple.

Grimmjow had expected the woman to bleat like a stuck pig and throw herself into Hichigo's arms, but she was eerily silent. He eyed her briefly before turning his attention to the prize; Hichigo ignored her altogether.

His old enemy hadn't moved since they'd set eyes on each other.

Keeping his gaze locked with Hichigo's, Grimmjow approached the carriage with growing pleasure. Hichigo's eyes narrowed. "Grimmjow. How did I know you'd show up sooner or later?"

Grimmjow grinned. "Didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"Still on Ichimaru's leash?"

Grimmjow's smile faded and he noted with irritation Hichigo's aristocratic speech. "Watch that bitchy tongue of yours, or I'll kill you right here."

"I wouldn't expect you to do something that smart. What the hell do you want?"

"Lady Inoue."

"Dumbass. This isn't Lady Inoue, and you should know I won't take you to her."

"You always thought you were smarter than me." Grinning, he flourished his blade. "You ain't supposed to take me to her. All I need to do is let the woman know I have _you_. I got it on good authority she'll rush right into my hands." He stepped to the side. "Now get the fuck out."

Face to face with the man whose existence was a continuous blight upon his soul, Grimmjow found himself gripping the hilt of his sword until he felt the sticky wet of blood.

Hichigo glanced down at his hand. Not a trace of fear in his eyes when he lifted them back up. Grimmjow hissed with reflexive hatred of this man whose composure and bearing never failed to make him feel as small and distasteful as a cockroach.

His lip curled, and a humorless laugh scraped out.

"I always hated that look. But don't worry, I won't kill you fast. It'll be slow, so I can enjoy it. When it's over, I'll just cut those fucking eyes out of your head."

"Is that it? How lame."

Snarling, Grimmjow jerked his head at Yammy. Yammy raised his fist and hit Hichigo at the same time that Grimmjow punched him in the stomach.

"Insolent prick."

Grimmjow grinned as his prisoner dropped unconscious to the ground.

()()()

Orihime forced herself to dress for dinner, although it would strain her composure to be in the company of Ichigo Kurosaki and Shihōin Yoruichi.

Every time she thought of her conduct of the past several days, Orihime wanted to curl into a ball and disappear through the floor. How many times had she almost betrayed herself? She was fortunate to have been able to convince Ichigo that her outburst in the library had been caused by her frustration over Lady Shihōin's behavior.

Her pride had been saved… For all it mattered. What was pride worth without the benefit of love? What was life worth? Its continuance gave her no comfort, she existed in a haze of pain. Never having won Ichigo Kurosaki, she had just as surely lost him, and his loss caused tremors of anguish to shoot through the center of her body relentlessly.

There were so many times she found it almost impossible to work up the strength to continue with her daily activities. She had little motivation even to put up her hair decently or eat adequately, so as not to attract attention to her despair. And this waiting was torture.

The family had gathered in the drawing room before dinner, and Ichigo and his guest hadn't returned. Isshin was gazing at the fire. Lady Arisawa and Yuzu were talking quietly while they sipped tea. Karen was engaged in a thick book Orihime had picked for her in the library, and Orihime herself, walked around the room pretending to admire the paintings on the wall or take an interest in a piece of Chinese porcelain. All the while, she expected Ichigo to enter the room and announce that he and Lady Shihōin had settled matters between them and to name the date of their wedding.

A long time ago, she had dreamed little daydreams of such an announcement for herself. In these fantasies, she was young and beautiful, sometimes a much sought hime, and certainly not the age she was now. Her suitor came to her father's house, breathless with fear for his reception. Usually he found her in the garden among chutes of tropical flowers, but sometimes she had him searching for her in the woods and finding her beneath the branches of an aged Juniper or beside a cascading waterfall. Always he called out her name in desperate longing, always she turned to him, smiling, and answered by holding out her hand. He rushed to her, stopped to kiss her wrist and stumble over his proposal…

But that was ridiculous. The childish fantasies of a little girl she had long since put behind her.

Unworldly, naive, and silly.

But that had been before her fortune vanished in the storm of irresponsibility created by her father. She had no more silly dreams. Not that it would have mattered. They would have appeared pale and uninteresting compared to the brilliant reality of Ichigo Kurosaki.

Her parents would never approve of him. Or perhaps they would, depending on the price he was willing to pay.

Orihime picked up a gilded container with a wooden pedestal base that fit neatly into her hand. Intricately engraved and pierced, its lid swung back to reveal an egg with a jeweled top. She wondered if it belonged with the castle or if perhaps he had acquired it in his time as a thief. Her fingers played with the top as she thought about Ichigo and Lady Shihōin. Even running as far as America wouldn't ease the pain she would feel, knowing that those two were—

"What is that noise?"

Looking up from the egg, Orihime glanced at Tatsuki before she too heard footsteps resounding on the floor outside the sitting room.

Over this rung a whirlwind of calamity that seemed to fill the vastness of the hall.

Isshin frowned and turned. Karin looked up from her book. Yuzu and Tatsuki rose as a group of servants burst into the room. In their midst, came Lady Shihōin, alternately yelling and scolding. "Soi Fong, where is that sake?"

Orihime rushed to Lady Shihōin as Chad helped her to a couch in front of the fire.

"Lady Shihōin, what happened?"

Karin waved the footmen away. "Give her air."

Lady Arisawa watched her carefully before she took Chad and Isshin aside, beginning a quiet conversation while Yuzu took a saucer from Soi Fong and helped Lady Shihōin drink. Shihōin downed the plate in one gulp, a practiced one.

Orihime glanced through the open doors. "Where is Lord Kurosaki, Lady Shihōin?"

"Another."

Orihime tried again, dodging the newest drink.

"Lady Shihōin, where is Lord Kurosaki?"

"We were ambushed."

"You were attacked? Robbed?" Orihime's anxiety was growing. "Where is…?"

Shihōin turned her face to the fan Soi Fong was waving at her. "It's a wonder I escaped."

Snatching the glass as Yuzu proffered it, Orihime pulled it out of reach when Shihōin's hand sought it. She planted herself in front of the woman and said carefully, "Where—is—Ichigo?"

Lady Shihōin blinked, then, eyes flashing with a cunning light, spoke when she saw Orihime's hand curl into a fist. "They took him. A blue-haired man took him to someone named Ichimaru."

Lady Arisawa left the men and took Orihime's arm, drawing her away from the others. "Chad got the story from the stable hand. They were attacked by a group of men on the road from the village to the castle. From his description, I think it was Jaegerjaquez Grimmjow."

"Grimmjow? And Ichimaru." Orihime pressed her hand to her stomach as it turned fiercely.

Tatsuki caught her arm and propelled Orihime to a chair. "Calm down, fainting isn't going to help Ichigo."

Vaguely aware that Lady Arisawa's voice had suddenly taken on the vibrant timbre of the street world, Orihime clutched the arms of the chair and took a deep breath.

"That's better." She handed Orihime a sealed parchment. "A little girl brought this. Said she was to deliver it only to you."

Her hands shaking, Orihime opened the paper and read. "If you want to see him alive, come back to Tokyo City. Rukia's tavern in Rukongai. Tell no one…"

The message was scrawled messily, as if someone had given it quickly. The strokes blurred as she stared at them. Shaking her head, Orihime looked up at Lady Arisawa, tears sliding down her face without permission. The woman was staring at the note and Orihime stuffed it into her kimono and rose.

Tatsuki grabbed her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"To Tokyo."

"You can't go, they'll kill you. You don't know what Ichimaru can do."

"I-I have to."

Lady Arisawa regarded her for a moment, as if assessing Orihime's strength and will, and at last, nodding. "All right, but if you're going, at least let me help you."

It was Orihime's turn to study Lady Arisawa. Quelling her nearly insane urge to rush off at once without forethought, Orihime noted that the lady seemed to be standing with an aggressive stance that belied her title and previous demeanor. Gone was the sweet and benign expression of a lady.

"You aren't Ichigo's friend at all. You're one of his thieves."

"Me, work for Ichigo? Not bloody likely."

When Orihime tried to object, Lady Arisawa held up a hand.

"No time for introductions now. You want our help or not?"

"Our?"

She looked up to see Chad and Isshin standing by a thin dark-haired man with glasses.

Orihime squashed her disorientation and fear, and tried to think like Hichigo. She looked deeply into the other woman's gaze.

"Ichigo trusted you, didn't he?"

Lady Arisawa's eyes glinted as she gave a sharp nod.

"Then help me save him." Her voice cracked and she shuddered. "I-I have to save him."

**A/N**

**Bet you didn't see that coming :) **

**Yup, that was inspired by the chapter in the Lost Agent Arc where Orihime was all ready to fly off and save Ichigo. But I'm too lazy to look up which one… Anyone know?**

**It doesn't matter, I guess. Anyway, please remember to leave a review before you navigate away, and tell me what you think :)**

**Mauhaha! Now, I shall make you wait five more months for the next chapter! Cause I'm a jerk like that :)  
**

**Much love! **


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Courting Darkness

Authorial Notice:

Okay, not five months. That was an extremely tasteless attempt at sarcasm. Sadly, that has been my norm lately, so no one got it :(

Ah… Oh, well. Update!

Chapter Fourteen

On a rainy night in Rukongai, a cart drawn by a boney, black horse clattered slowly down Cutthroat Road by Rukia's tavern. The sign over the tavern door was askew, its paint peeling to reveal cracked gray wood. Tattered curtains blocked out the light inside, but nothing could subdue the noise of a drunken brawl that spilled into the street. The driver of the cart paid no attention to the fight or to the two whores in muddy silk. He drove on, passing the blond woman with heavy, golden lashes surrounded by a group of thieves, past the two scrawny dark-haired men watching the fight, huddled down against the chill.

Nearing an abandoned warehouse with grimy windows, its shutters and awning surrounded by crumbling brick, the carriage turned down the back alley and drew to a stop, wheels creaking, the only sound in the thick night air. 

The warehouse was littered with vegetable crates, old grain sacks and straw baskets. Debris had been clumsily shoved aside to make room for a cage. The enclosure had a wooden top and bottom and iron bars on the sides, and it had one occupant—Ichigo Kurosaki.

Ichigo squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to shut out the fierce pounding that was filling the space behind them as he slid into consciousness. There was a garbled noise somewhere, buzzing into his awareness and he tried to push it back until he recognized it as Grimmjow's irritated growl.

By the sound, he could guess the identity of the other man. It was Slayzel Aporro, who liked to be called Doctor Aporro, although Slayzel was only an alchemist, and a corrupt one at that.

"No, you stupid shit." Grimmjow snarled through clenched teeth, pounding his fist on what sounded like a crate. "I want him to die slow and hard, real hard. I thought about setting fire to the place, but he tends to disappear just then…" He snarled again. "And if I hang him, his neck might break right off. I want it _messy_."

"I won't quarrel with you, but these matters are quite delicate. They depend on a man's size and constitution and the type of poison and dosage, and various other factors that you've yet to take into consideration. What _are_ you doing?"

"Fuckin' little brat bit me!"

"It looks infected."

Ichigo's pressed his lips at how much pleasure the man seemed to be taking in the conversation. He could _hear_ the nasty smile on the man's face. 

"Nevermind that, what have you got?"

"Mercy me. Let me think. There are so many, you see. There are chemicals such as boric acid or camphor... Quite unpleasant. Then there's quinine and antimony, or mercury, or phosphorus."

"Those sound good."

"But then, you might consider the plant poisons such as hemlock, lily of the valley... There is always foxglove, or the poisonous mushrooms such as amanitas, which is known as death's cap."

Ichigo heard a soft familiar sound. Grimmjow was neading the muscles of his neck.

"Of course, there are also the animal toxins. Scorpion's venom, or arachnid, and there is—" 

"Stop! You're making my fuckin' head hurt! Just tell me what's worst."

Ichigo risked peering at the two through his lashes.

Grimmjow had drawn closer to the pink-haired alchemist in the white waistcoat.

"I like that death cap thing. What is it like?"

"My dear Grimmjow, most unpleasant indeed… Delirium, hallucinations, fever, convulsions."

"Lots of pain?"

"Indeed, but it may take a while to work."

"And he'd suffer?" 

"Yes, but if you're looking for something unpleasant, perhaps you should consider boric acid, to produce vomiting and flux. I need some notice, though. So that I have time to prepare. When will you need it?"

"I won't be through with him until a certain package arrives, and that won't be until tomorrow night or the night after..."

The two continued their morbid conversation. Their voices faded from Ichigo's notice as his head began to ache worse than before. The last thing he remembered was being hit from behind, then waking in pain only to be beaten and thrown into his cage. And someone must have handled him rough while he was unconscious. His ribs were bruised, probably cracked. He had a cut on his temple and there were several lumps on his head.

Not that it would do any good thinking on it. Grimmjow was going to draw Orihime to this place by dangling him as bait. Stupid, selfless Orihime. Then he was going to kill them both and Ichigo had to do something before that could happen.

He hadn't thought about this risk. The idea of her coming within a league of bloody Jaegerjaquez Grimmjow made him want to vomit. He had to get away, but he couldn't work on the problem until he was left alone. He didn't want them to know he had regained consciousness so he could gain the upper hand.

Ichigo was listening to Aporro expound on the misery of death when Yami crashed into the room, slamming the doors open with his large arms.

"She's here."

Ichigo stopped breathing and Grimmjow growled.

"Who's here? What the hell are you on about?"

"The Inoue girl, she's here."

"Fucking hell, already?" Grimmjow turned to Aporro. "Get out. I'll send for you later."

With the alchemist gone, Grimmjow said, "She's at Rukia's?"

"She's sitting at a table right now."

Grimmjow called out, "Nnorita, get your boys!"

Ichigo turned his head. Men appeared in the doorway and Grimmjow handed Nnorita a key. "Watch the bastard, and don't get close to him. I'll be up the road."

Never had Ichigo felt so helpless. He watched Grimmjow and Yami leave. When he was certain that Grimmjow was out of hearing, he began to groan.

"S'that…?" Nnorita turned. He was a tall man with a grin like a crescent moon, and much less pleasant.

"It's him." One of them jerked his head in Ichigo's direction. "He's waking up."

Nnorita lumbered over to the cage and leered at Ichigo, who was dragging himself to an upright position.

"So this is Hichigo? Just another pretty boy."

"I wouldn't. Grimmjow said we shouldn't get near him."

"Shut up." He pulled a sickle shaped blade from his pocket. "I don't like his look."

Nnorita kicked the cage door.

Ichigo managed to get to his knees. Under the pretense of dizziness, he squinted at the key to his cage on Nnorita's thick leather belt. Nnorita drifted nearer, and he was about to lunge for the key when his quarry turned away.

"What was that?"

"What?" The tall man curled his lip one last time at Ichigo. "Stark's at the back door, ain't he?"

A sudden crash made both men jump. A rock sailed through the room's only window, spraying glass around the cage. With both men's attention on the cause of the crash, only Ichigo saw the shadows dart into the room. One raced to the shorter man, who was bending to pick up the rock.

A long staff struck with a whack, and the man dropped.

Nnorita turned with a snarl, stalking toward the invaders. Ichigo threw himself at the cage door and tried to tear the bars apart. The first shadow retreated. The second passed the only lamp in the room, something long and black strapped across its back.

"Orihime, run!"

Orihime didn't look at him, but continued to flee, passing over the threshold and into the dark corridor. Nnorita barreled after her. As he rushed out the door, she whirled, eyes determined. A sword appeared in her hands out of the nowhere and Nnorita tried to stop, shocked face contorting. She lifted the sword and bashed him on the head with it, sheathe and all.

Nnorita hit the ground as if she had dropped a boulder on him. Orihime blinked and gasped, looking at the weapon in her hands, and again Ichigo yelled for her to run, but she wasn't listening.

"I-I'm sorry!"

What the hell did she think she was doing!

His voice broke out of his throat without thought, echoing in his ears. "Don't stop, run!"

Nnorita stumbled up, staggering a bit before lunging to grab her, and Orihime squeaked, whacking him another time, but he was prepared.

"_Bitch_! I don't care who wants you alive, I'll fucking kill you!"

Struggling, the two fell back into the room. Ichigo shouted, but Nnorita slammed the lighter woman to the floor and fastened his hands around her throat. Orihime's eyes popped open, mouth gasping for air she couldn't get, and Ichigo tried to topple the cage onto Nnorita.

He slammed into cold steel bars, but the effort only brought on a wave of vertigo. Darkness tugged at him, threatening to drag him under. As he sank to his knees, Ichigo glimpsed Orihime. Her small hands clawed at the snake like fingers squeezing her neck.

Only pure willpower kept him awake, but his vision blurred. He heard a cracking sound and shook his head. Gripping the bars of his cage, Ichigo wrenched himself up as Ikkaku stood and Nnorita fell over on the floor. Blood seeped around his head, pooling like a crimson halo.

Ichigo blinked, then there was red-gold wisps of light drifting into his vision and teal-ringed grey eyes surrounded by smooth, pale skin. She trembled, forcing a smile, looking slightly pained, but triumphant, and something in his chest twisted and erupted with relief.

"Hime…" He swallowed, trying to push his thoughts into order. "He has the key."

"I know." She held it up and Ichigo blinked at her in disbelief as she stuck it in the lock and opened the cage door.

"How— When…? What!"

She had picked it from him? While he was strangling her! Ichigo didn't even have the presence of mind to exit the cage door as he felt his eyebrow twitch. He growled, spitting curses.

"Who the in _hell_ was stupid enough to teach you _that_?"

She blinked up at him and from the corner of his eye, he saw Renji attempting to slink off into the shadows. Ichigo growled.

Orihime stuck her head inside and grabbed his arm, tugging him forward.

"And what are you doing here?" he demanded. "You shouldn't have come."

"We have to go before they figure it out…" She gasped. "There's blood on your face."

Ichigo jerked back from the sting as she tried to wipe it away with the hem of her kimono. Apparently too quickly, because dizziness spun his head in circles, and he fell on Orihime as he tried to steady himself.

"Fuck."

"A-Abarai-kun! Madarame-kun! Lord—Err… Hichigo-kun is bleeding!"

Ichigo scowled as Ikkaku and Renji smirked at each other before Renji seemed to remember he was on his bad side, and sobered.

"How is it, Hich?"

Ichigo sighed, straightening and taking stock of his condition. "Just a cut. There's a man at the side door."

Orihime shook her head. "Not any more. I distracted him, and Madarame-kun hit him." 

He closed his eyes and drug a hand down his face, only speaking when he was certain not to yell. "Lady Orihime, you've been learning bad things…" He reached out and undid the buckle to Zangetsu's strap, pulling it from her small shoulders. "And I want an account. Don't think you're getting out of that." He pinned her with a look as he pried the sword from her grip and fastened it into place where it belonged. "But right now, we should leave before my host returns."

Renji and Ikkaku exchanged another look at Hichigo's formal speech, but followed as he led them out of the room. Opening the back door, he stepped over Stark's prone body and motioned for Orihime to follow.

It had stopped raining, but only recently, and the roof was still dripping, the air thick with moisture. Ichigo went to the intersection of the alley and glanced up and down the road. Orihime tugged on his coat sleeve and pointed in the opposite direction.

"Abarai-kun has a carriage."

Ichigo glanced down, masking his surprise as he nodded and took her hand, setting off down the alley at the safest pace his condition would allow. Madarame and Renji went ahead, checking each turn and corner as they went. They passed a street and walked a few yards before Ichigo stopped and turned to Orihime.

"Oi! If you're here, who's at Rukia's?"

Orihime gazed back at him calmly. "Lady Arisawa."

"Lady— Tatsuki?"

"You should have told me who she was." She sniffed. "To dress her up in that disguise… When were you going to tell me she was a childhood friend?"

Ichigo set off again, pulling Orihime after him. "No time for this now."

"She has a—a gang of ruffians!"

"I know."

"And you're intimately acquainted with her..."

Ichigo noticed the accusing note in Orihime's voice and was just about to snap back that Tatsuki didn't _get_ intimately acquainted with any man when he heard shouts behind them.

Turning, he saw Grimmjow and Yami racing toward them.

"Shit. Come on."

He turned to Orihime, but she was already tugging her kimono up, looping it into her obi. Orihime darted around a corner. Down the street, Madarame was galloping ahead. Ichigo tailed Orihime, lifting her up onto a barrel and following after up the side of the building.

He stood looking down when Grimmjow arrived below. Turning, Ichigo ran up the roof slope, pulling Orihime with him. They skittered down the other side and leaped across to the flat top of the next building. As they raced for the next one, Yami appeared, hiking a leg over the side of the wall and landing within a few yards of them. Shoving Orihime behind him, Ichigo faced the man and pulled Zangetsu free as he drew a long blade.

He was still holding Orihime's hand behind his back when he suddenly felt it pull away, giving them some space. Yami was coming at them slowly, the knife waving back and forth. Ichigo waited until he was within a yard. Then he hurled forward with a downward stroke. It hit the man's knife hand and sent the weapon flying over the side of the building. Yami cried out and pulled back what was left of his arm, screaming before rushing him.

He caught Ichigo in the stomach with his shoulder. Ichigo felt a jolt of pain in his ribs as he fell under the man. Twisting from beneath his attacker, he hit him in the jaw. Yami staggered backward, righted himself and landed a punch to Ichigo's sternum. Ichigo doubled over, more from the renewed injury to his ribs than from the blow. He coughed and managed to dive away from the next blow, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid a kick to his leg.

Falling as his leg gave out, he saw his opponent pull another knife and turn. Ichigo's eyes widened in horror as he glimpsed Orihime behind Yami.

"Hime!"

Even as he spoke, Ichigo was moving, bringing his arm up and back, and then down to slice cleanly through the man's neck. The severed head rolled away, tumbling over the edge of the roof.

Ichigo turned to see Orihime holding herself up against a pile of ceramic bricks. She started and recoiled when he touched her arm.

"Hey…" He tilted her head up so he could examine her face, swiping away tears with careful fingers.

There were footsteps below and his other arm moved to tighten around her shoulders.

Narrowing his eyes, Ichigo's arm dropped to take Orihime's hand and pull her after him, peering over the roof. He paused, frowning when he heard a muffled sob. Looking back, he watched as crystal tears dripped from her chin.

"Sorry, Hime, but we need to keep going. Do you think you can make it to that roof?" He pointed to the steep slopes of the next building. "It's the last one, and then we'll be at the carriage." 

Orihime sniffed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"I-I can make it."

He nodded, feeling strangely heavy, and set off for the next roof.

In a short time, they were climbing down the side of a wall. He could see Renji sitting atop the Arisawa's carraige. Ichigo helped Orihime jump down from a windowsill, and hurried her down the sidewalk. They were just about to cross over the street when Jaegerjaquez Grimmjow stepped out of a doorway holding a gleaming blade.

In the light of the moon, the metal of the sword shone, sweating in the drenched air. "Never knew you to hide behind women, Hichigo." 

"I don't." Ichigo moved Orihime behind him again, watching every stalking move forward. It was always hard to tell what Grimmjow was thinking.

"Sent that bitch to fool me…"

"What's wrong, Grimm? You're alone."

Grimmjow snarled.

"After I've finished with you, I'll find her and settle the score." He raised the sword and pointed it at Ichigo's heart with a grin. "Too bad I won't get to try any of those poisons on you."

Ichigo felt Orihime stir behind him. He squeezed her hand, then shoved her and whispered, "Go."

She moved and so did Grimmjow, but not as he had expected. Before he could stop her, she darted in front of him. Grimmjow's sword following the blur of movement. At the same time, Renji shouted and the clatter of hooves registered as the carriage horses came at the group. Ichigo sprang back with Orihime, sweeping her up in his arms and kicking Grimmjow's wrist at the same time.

Orihime struggled in his arms, and Ichigo barely regained his balance before twisting to set her on her feet.

Spotting his weapon, Grimmjow made a jump for it—directly into the path of the carriage. Ichigo shouted and tried to reach him, but he was too late. Grimmjow grabbed the blade and sprang out of the way, only to fall under the hooves of the frightened horses. Orihime cried out and yanked on Ichigo's arm. He allowed her to pull him out of the way as the carriage barreled past them. He wrapped his arms around her, watching Renji fight the horses and manage to halt them.

Over Orihime's head, he glanced at Grimmjow. The condition of his skull was enough to tell him that the man was dead and the sight made him ill for some reason.

A door slammed nearby. Ichigo jumped, and looked up and down the deserted street, keeping Orihime facing away from the mangled remains of his old rival.

"We have get out of here. Can you walk?"

"I can't breathe..."

He loosened his hold on her and peered into her pale face. She was trembling, and her eyes were glistening with tears.

Madarame came running up to them, out of breath but unhurt and she pulled back.

"I can walk."

Feeling her slump, Ichigo cursed. "Like I'll let you."

He picked her up. She was too light. Hadn't she been eating?

Ichigo held her tight against him and ignored her protests, climbing into the carriage. She was cold and trembling and tearful, and he had almost lost her.

Catching her face into his hands, he studied her face, took in every curve, every lash. Her hair fell over his hands, unbound sometime during their escape. He didn't know what he was looking for, only that he was certain it was there somewhere.

His hands tightened, crushing soft locks between strong fingers and he couldn't take it. Not another second, not another instant. He pulled her forward, kissed her like he meant it. As if he could draw enough breath for a lifetime from her mouth.

Then he pulled back, and she was shocked at the angry light in his eyes as he shook her slightly.

"Don't… Don't ever do that again."

()()()

Review? Pretty please?


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Courting Darkness

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Authorial Notice:

It's been too long. I know this. You know this. _However,_ in all fairness, I was waiting, because stupid ffNet is purging fics with too much sexual content and that statement will make a lot more sense after you read this chapter.

And SingingButterflyRose, I haven't forgotten you, my dear! You're next :)

()()()

Chapter Fourteen

In the following hours, Orihime was puzzled by Ichigo's behavior. It was becoming an almost permanent state, where he was concerned.

They had escaped Rukongai, left Tatsuki and Chad with Renji and Ikkaku at Rukia's, and continued to the vacant house they had stayed at on their first escape from Tokyo. The house she now knew did indeed belong to him. She had finally managed to persuade Ichigo to seek out a doctor. So, vowing to send a message confirming his safety to his father and sisters, Orihime sent him off.

He'd been gone over an hour, and Orihime was still sorting through her own tangled thoughts.

She was baffled. She'd spent an entire day afraid for his life. Never had she been so terrified, not even when she had seen murder done. Then Ichigo scolded her for coming to his rescue herself. Why? Had she not proved that she could be just as crafty and sly? She had even learned street tricks! But not one word of appreciation was spoken to her since they reached the house. Instead, he scowled and pouted, and seemed to nurse some mysterious vexation of his own that he refused to discuss.

And most of all, she was confused because in a moment of impulse, he'd kissed her and made her more in love with him than ever.

Orihime wrinkled her nose, thinking hard.

He kissed her. Kissed her and stroked the fine hairs on the back of her neck, and managed to turn her into little more than a puddle of female nerves and liquid heat… He'd even called her "Hime", sweeping her into his arms, behaving like the hero from her childish dreams.

She… She would never be able to forgive him for that.

Reaching up, Orihime swiped at the tears that had broken loose from the dam she was frantically trying to build in her heart. It wouldn't do to start this now. Not when she needed her wits sharp enough to think.

She was downstairs, pacing the room where Ichigo had put the treasures he'd acquired from Europe. He had refused to say when or why he'd gone to that land, but he had returned with exquisite mementos of the journey. Orihime paused beside a bronzed figurine before her anxiety took her on another tour of the room, the whisper of long silk sleeves trailing behind her.

It was no good.

She kept thinking of Lady Arisawa whom Ichigo called Tatsuki.

The woman had been in disguise the whole time she was at Karakura Castle.

Lady Arisawa was an attractive young woman, and she was everything Orihime was not—quick-witted, confident, and adventurous. Upon learning of Ichigo's abduction, it was Lady Arisawa that had suggested the plan that ultimately succeeded in his rescue. Lady Arisawa had braved the ruffians at Rukia's tavern disguised as Orihime. It was Lady Arisawa that had supplied the men willing to take on those waiting to entrap her. Orihime had done nothing but follow orders. And while she had been willing to play any part in rescuing Ichigo, she wasn't certain how she felt about Tatsuki — and Rukia herself for that matter— referring to Ichigo in such a familiar and offhanded manner.

She had never had feelings like these before she ran away. So much doubt over something so silly. This was the same ugly insecurity she'd battled with over the Shihōin heiress.

Jealousy. That's what she felt.

Humiliating as it was, Orihime had to admit to herself that she was jealous of yet another woman who seemed to know Ichigo Kurosaki well. Even if it was one she had grown fond of so quickly, and the person responsible for his safe rescue.

She truly was a terrible person.

But Lady Arisawa was gone, and Lady Shihōin had run off on some urgent business of her own, which Ichigo speculated was simply a falsehood brought on by being held at sword point. Orihime would probably never see either of them again.

Orihime stopped next to a red jasper vase and glanced at the delicately carved writing desk in front of her. Upon it lay a sheet of writing paper, and upon that, a letter of farewell to Ichigo.

The only way to prevent another threat to him or someone else dear to her was to leave at once, to run without looking back.

Swallowing her heavy heart, she traced the kanji of her rescuer's name out with the tip of her finger.

Jealousy or not, she had borrowed a small sum from Tatsuki. Ichigo would repay her. Orihime could no longer afford to be too proud to take money from him. Her few possessions, which she had taken with her on the rushed flight from Karakura, were packed in a small case and waiting in the foyer. She had been forced to leave her dear brother's book behind, but she couldn't afford to worry over that, either. And now that she knew who held Ururu and Jinta and that they were safely being cared for, there were no more excuses. So if she could just find the words to write this letter of farewell, she could leave.

"_Silly_, Orihime. You're behaving like a child…"

Another tear escaped and Orihime bit her lip. No… No, she had to be strong, but it was getting difficult to breathe. The room was spinning and she desperately needed air.

Orihime stumbled to the window, dragging in deep breaths, fumbling with the latch before catching sight of her reflection in the glass. She almost didn't recognize herself. She wasn't the same little girl that had snuck midnight horseback rides with her brother. She wasn't the same young woman that had been sent in shame to live with her aunt. And she wasn't the hopeless romantic who had loved a man that turned into a monster—

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Orihime started and whirled around to find Ichigo standing not two yards away, her traveling case in his hand.

"I-Ichi—"

He dropped the case, the resounding bang making her jump again.

"You're leaving?"

Orihime gripped the edge of the window behind her until it stung, her hands growing cold. The man in front of her was seething with a fury the force of which she had never experienced. It was dangerous and deadly, and it was _Hichigo_ who was stalking toward her.

She pushed away the impulse to run, knowing by nothing more than the tensing of his muscles that he saw what she was thinking. He would be on her in an instant if she dared try something so foolish.

Orihime inhaled a shaky breath and faced his narrow-eyed glare. She had to swallow twice to find her voice.

"Our agreement is concluded, Lord Kurosaki."

His chin lowered, hair falling over narrowed eyes and they seemed to spark when she used his title. He stopped less than a foot from her, towering, teeth grinding, making her feel utterly powerless by comparison. "Fuck our agreement."

She jerked back, the windowsill burrowing into the base of her spine, but she was so focused on Hichigo's burning glare and intimidating posture, she could hardly feel it.

"W-what?"

"You lied to me."

"I—" Her voice broke under the strain of facing his calm fury. She bit her lip and tried again. "I have to go. I'll always be a danger to you, to anyone near me."

"Not if you'd open up your damn mouth and tell me who killed Hinamori Momo. I can _protect_ you."

"But Grimmjow almost killedyo—"

Ichigo hissed and grabbed her by her arms, pulling her close and shaking her at the same time.

"Damn it, when are you going to figure out that I would rather die five times over than to risk never seeing you again?"

Her eyes widened.

The words seemed to hang in the room over their heads.

Ichigo stopped shaking her, and they stared at each other for a long time without speaking. His eyes still glittered with frustration and anger, but as she watched, something else flickered in them and was gone, mastered by his ruthless will. It was brief, an elusive flicker, a ghost of something so vague that she might have imagined it. But she hadn't.

Orihime's eyes stung and she didn't bother to stop the slow swell of tears.

Ichigo was still holding her, frozen and rigid. But at the sight of her shimmering eyes, his grip softened and he cursed, looking away and dropping his hold.

"Forget it. It's stupid. Me being what I am." He glanced at her and away, and gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "Should have known—"

"Yes…"

His face snapped back to hers.

"…you should know."

Grasping the sleeve of his jacket, Orihime rose up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, one he was too shocked to return as she pulled away.

"Thank you, Ichigo. That was more than I could have hoped for."

Still shaky, but smiling, she looked away, not wanting him to see that her resolve hadn't wavered in the least. If anything, it had strengthened, hardened as soon as the words penetrated her heart, because now, she had something to protect as well.

Love. That was what she had seen. Timid, yes. Fearful even, and she wondered how many times he had been spurned and discarded, but it was definitely there. She knew it because she had seen it in her brother's eyes before he passed, and once she had thought she spied it in Sosuke Aizen's.

His hands shifted, brushing between her shoulders before they clenched into the fabric at her back and jerked her forward.

The embrace was brief, because in the next moment he fisted a hand into her hair and tilted her mouth up.

As her lips met his, she could taste the amount of hope he put into the kiss. It was fierce and quick, but powerful, brushing her sensitive mouth over and over. He tilted her head back further with his thumbs, pressing the delicate bones of her jaw, forcing her to arch back then face him, speaking between kisses.

"I don't want you to leave…."

Orihime sniffed, tears coming again, but for an entirely different reason as she gasped, sharp points of pleasure radiating through her blood. "I-I know."

"I'm in love with you."

She swallowed, smiled and _hurt_.

Ichigo brushed stray tears away, cupping her cheek and staring at her with the piercing look that always sent butterflies whirling through her stomach. "You can't hide forever, not now that they know I've been helping."

"I know, but..."

Ichigo huffed, tsk'ed and twined his arms around her to pull her closer. His hair fell across her face, a teasing silkiness that echoed the touch of his fingers as they traced the outlines of her neck and shoulder blades, and his teeth nipped her ear.

But he wasn't ready to give up.

"I need you to tell me who it is, Hime."

That name again. It wasn't fair. He said it like he liked the way it tasted on his tongue and it always stole the strength from her knees, but before she could refuse him again, he kissed her, cutting off her protest as if he'd known it was coming and twisting the attempt into a startled whimper.

He took her breath, subduing any thoughts of opposition. She could have told him not to bother. For once, there was nowhere else she wanted to be and although she knew this tentative truce couldn't last, Orihime also couldn't bring herself to pull away.

Warm palms glided up her back to tangle into thick auburn locks, tugging just enough to arch her neck back, exposing the pulse point she was certain he could see hammering franticly.

Ichigo placed a string of open-mouthed kisses to the delicate chords of her throat, and she shivered, electricity buzzing straight into her veins. Gooseflesh formed over her arms and down her body, chased by strong hands that dragged down her spine, creating delicious friction and pressing her flush against his hard chest.

Her fingers grasped at his shoulders, wrestling with his clothing for purchase.

Snagging her hips, he turned with Orihime in his arms and lifted her to the writing desk, not caring about what was knocked over or spilled in their haste. He was trying to devour her, to taste every piece of visible skin. Orihime moaned, arching back when she felt his body align itself with hers, and she reveled in the hardness of him, that heat and firmness of muscle under soft clothing.

But it wasn't enough.

Her eyes shot open as Ichigo brushed a thumb across the side of her breast, and she gasped so hard she nearly chocked. Dizzying stabs of desire flared up her nerve endings and she moaned, long and breathy, feeling lost in a tumult of burning emotions and fierce hunger. She wanted—needed… Kami, she needed... something, and she was certain, _certain_ that he had it.

_Please…__ Please…_

She couldn't take it. She had to touch him.

Orihime slid her hands into his jacket, up the solid muscles of his arms to his shoulders and dragged them back down his chest, panting. She didn't know what she was doing, just that she had to _feel_ _him…_ That heat, that hard maleness, all of it begged her to abandon rationality. When he fastened teeth down on her throat between her neck and shoulder, her nails dug into flesh, mindless and involuntary. He hissed, groaning before repeating the action.

''I-Ichi-go… Ichigo, _please_..."

She panted, trying to pull him closer, but she couldn't drag him any closer than he was already pushing himself.

Trailing love bites down her collarbone, he growled at her pleas, grabbed her under the thighs and rocked his hips forward, hard, right into that aching spot between her legs, and she keened, gasped for breath as pleasure so powerful it might have been pain flared through her core.

Hearing him growl, Orihime was instantly lost, too hot, too muddled to think about anything but that feeling, hardly noticing his hand sliding upwards until Ichigo grasped one heavy breast in his large hand and squeezed.

Arching back, she cried out, unintentionally pressing harder against his stiff member, harder against his hot palm, her rigid nipple crushed through thick layers of silk, shooting waves of blistering fire spreading from his fingers. He groaned into her ear. Grasping her breast, he shoved it upward until he could nip the firm nipple with his teeth through the fabric. She yelped, writhing against him, nails clenching deeper into his shirt, whimpering when he continued his assault and vaguely glad she wasn't relying on her legs to keep her up.

Clenching fingers into his hair, her head fell back and she panted, just _feeling_ the heat of his mouth through too many layers.

He spat a curse, but her head was still fuzzy and too gone to decipher his sudden frustration.

Ichigo shifted restlessly until with a jerk, his jacket came off, thrown to the floor. He flicked open the buttons of his collar with one hand, before growing impatient and wrenching it the rest of the way open. Sinking fingers back into silken tresses, he reclaimed her mouth in a feral kiss, licking, biting, marking.

Orihime didn't need to be told. She snaked her arms around his neck with a hum, succumbing to the lure of his stronger body, gliding her hands down to meet bare chest. Her heart thumped in her ribcage at the feel of all that hot, smooth skin under hungry hands. She pressed her palms flat to his chest, tingling, relishing the rumbling sounds he made deep in his chest.

He prodded her legs wider before sinking back against her, hitching one thigh up and around his waist, groaning at the sharper more pervasive contact.

Orihime's back arched with a gasp, hips reflexively grinding against his.

He blew out a vicious curse.

With a tug, he wrenched her other leg, pulling it forward and pressing her back flat to the desk, ignoring the cascade of papers. An arm snaked around her waist and she felt something slide from under her, and then her kimonos began falling open.

Orihime blinked.

Their eyes met and locked, and the air froze in her lungs.

The outside world and any fears she had ever had disappeared, burned away by the raw hunger in his eyes and every tense and predatorily line of his body.

He reached up, slid his hands under the top of her kimono, pushing it off her shoulders before repeating the process, removing her layers one by one as careful hands contradicted the violence flashing in his gaze. Ignoring the fact that her arms were becoming tangled and weighted down, which was clearly his design, Ichigo shunted everything between them aside, twisted and pulled silk until she was secured.

Ragged breathing and swishing fabric filled her ears, and she had to blink several times to focus.

"W-what are you…"

She watched him swallow as he reached the last barrier, wetting his lips, hands still moving torturously slow.

"You tend to run off on me."

_Oh…_ She tried to ignore the tingle his words sparked.

"Besides…"

His eyes narrowed in concentration as he unknotted the tie and peeled the fabric away to reveal pale, heaving breasts. His sharp inhale broke the tense silence before dropping into a groan as he stared, unmoving except for clenching hands and harsh breathing.

She observed him, caught in the silence and afraid to break the tenuous trace.

Fingers skimmed along her stomach, tickling before dragging up her ribs to smooth over plump mounds of the softest flesh. He traced out small petal-pink nipples, watched them harden further until she couldn't help but writhe beneath it, trapped in her kimonos.

"I still want you to tell me who it was."

Then he caught her breast, leaning forward to capture the teasing round nub in his mouth.

Orihime inhaled sharply before releasing it as a strangled whimper. Sparks erupted everywhere he touched and fled down to multiply in her lower belly. She mewled, arched, desperate to increase the friction between the tongue and her flesh. When he rocked forward, pressing his erection against her, she saw stars scattered across her vision, transforming into the dozen openmouthed kisses he was scattering over her chest and up her throat before his lips finally covered hers once more, tongue finding hers, stroking again and again in a natural rhythm she thought she should know, but had never experienced.

Just when she felt confident enough to challenge his bold kiss with her own, he pulled away, flashed a smirk.

"Tell me."

Orihime gasped. "…What?"

He huffed, drew a finger up the inside of her thigh.

She squirmed, struggled to break loose, frustrated that only he could touch and tease.

"Tell me who."

Blinking, she tried to focus past the haze of heat invading her defenseless body. When his finger reached the peak of her thighs, so close to sensitive flesh, she gasped. "I-I can't."

The finger stopped and Ichigo tsk'ed again.

He leaned forward and drug a rough, warm tongue across her collarbone, nipping occasionally. He ran hands from her shoulders over her heaving breasts down her tight stomach and lower, until she was nearly wild with the need to be free. She might have begged, she wasn't certain. Her mouth was moving and his eyes had gone dark with amusement and lust, and she panted and moaned and thrashed and _ached_.

Her thoughts splintered into nothing as his hips ground against hers, harder than before.

Ichigo's eyes blazed as he listened to her whine, twisting and struggling under him until she had no strength left.

"Tell me, Hime."

Orihime gasped for air, her body limp and trembling, peeking up at him and hoping for mercy.

Ichigo arched a brow, licked his lips.

Dropping a hand between them, he brushed over her sex and she jerked at the blistering contact. She arched, muscles straining as he gently threaded fingers through her folds until he was placed to find its way inside.

His voice sounded rough and breathless. "Tell me."

Biting hard on her lip in case her mouth decided to betray her, Orihime shook her head, strands of hair falling over her face.

He groaned, still threading fingers between her folds and she could feel the moisture beginning to coat them and his breathing became uneven.

Thinking became an impossible illusion.

He pushed in, past slick, resisting heat, watching her face with lowered lashes that couldn't quite hide the fire behind them, stretching her inner walls around his single digit.

Shuddering in reaction, Orihime bit her lip harder, whimpering as the new sensation washed over her, making her skin tingle and burn.

_No… don't… Kami, don't stop…_

It felt unlike anything she had experienced. Good. No… more than good. Addictive. Unbearable. Something she needed just to go on living.

She curled and uncurled her fingers into the fabric holding her arms, feeling nervous anticipation streak through her at the dark and sensual set of his face and the sounds that reverberated out from the back of his throat. He slid out, pausing before pressing back inside with an additional finger, and she couldn't help the strangled cry that erupted from her throat as he slowly began driving them in and out with even strokes.

Licking his lips, Ichigo watched her face, free hand tantalizing her navel in playful circles before pressing her hips down with deliberate intent before leaning closer.

"Are you going to tell me?"

_Huh? _

The words barely registered. She had almost forgotten.

Her mouth began forming syllables before she could focus enough to stop it. A frustrated whine was all that managed to escape.

Ichigo shook his head. "Your way…"

_What… what was he_— His fingers tensed, pulling out before shoving deep in a firm, jarring stroke as something hot and wet lathed over the nerves at the peak of her sex.

Her breath rushed out in a strangled cry.

Her legs snapped together, a hopeless attempt at defense, clamping around him as she renewed her efforts at freeing her arms. It was too much. If he did that again, she was going to start making all kinds of embarrassing sounds and she wouldn't be in control of anything coming out of her mouth. That lack of self-restraint frightened her. Wrestling against her unplanned bindings, Orihime yelped as he pried her thighs apart so easily she might as well have not been resisting.

"Please…Please… I-Ichi-go…"

He knew though, the thief in him pouncing on her weakness.

Hichigo's dark eyes and devilish grin flashed up from between her legs and she could only whimper as he leaned forward and dragged his warm tongue in one long, firm, excruciating caress between her lips, never breaking eye contact.

She shuddered, panted, bit her tongue to stop the moans, but couldn't look away. He did it again. Then again, starting a steady, agonizing rhythm. Delving deeper into her core, he followed whatever desires led him while his intense gaze burned her, growling and licking until Orihime thought she would sob from frustration.

She was shaking, trembling from the strain of too many sensations, crying out when he pressed harder, more insistent.

Just when she thought she would shatter from the unbearable pressure, he stopped.

"You're damn stubborn, you know that?"

He released her thighs and she heard her own exasperated protest. Her face heated instantly as she realized and he chuckled before reaching down to free her from her clothing, lifting and carrying her naked form from the room.

No longer strong enough to be embarrassed, she closed her eyes, feeling boneless, just listening to his graceful steps and feeling their echoing throb pulsating between her legs. She squeezed them together and whined desperate for some sort of relief. He shushed her, muttering soothing words and promises until she settled for burying her face into his neck.

Orihime raised her head when he slid open a screen, revealing a room she hadn't seen before, but one she knew was his, because the smell of his soap still lingered the air.

Shivers darted down her spine, the last vestiges of nervousness, creeping back up to claim her, but they were easily forgotten when he placed her down, draping her bare body over the bed with more deliberate consideration than any of his fine, stolen treasures. She just watched him, hypnotized by the sudden gentleness.

He smiled when he notice her watching him, kissed her, soft and thorough, and she wondered if the last half hour had even happened. It was so easy to get lost in the new softness, so easy to forget everything else and by the time she recognized the deep-seated lust barely balanced on the cusp of his control, Orihime was lost. Her blood heated to a boil, rushing in red-hot torrents through her veins. Every nerve ending sizzled with it, raw and aching, the barest touch magnified.

He was of two minds. She could feel it, the wavering between lord and thief, shifting back and forth until they might as well have been one.

But there wasn't any control or rules or etiquette here. There was just the blistering need, the savage craving.

She reached between them to search out his flesh, palms itching for the feel of him, fingers skimming over his chest. He grunted, inhaling as her nails lightly scraped. Orihime brushed the bandages on his ribs, trailed down to his stomach, fascinated as muscles shivered and jumped under her touch and Ichigo groaned, taking her mouth, kisses growing more focused, turning hungry and desperate. It seemed that every time she touched him, he became more fevered and rushed, and it amazed her that she could have such power over him in that way.

She sat up under him, knees brushing his hips, grasping his hair to press her lips against his. But she couldn't match him. He grew impatient, took charge and dominated the exchange, taking what he wanted from her mouth, pushing her back to lathe fiery kisses down her neck and chest, teeth grazing, biting, consuming her alive.

His hand returned to her entrance, and she was almost wild with the need for release. He stroked her into a frenzy then withdrew to grasp her hips, trapping his member between their bodies, grinding, creating sharp friction, until her hands roamed every available surface on him, and she bit into the chorded muscle along his shoulder, teeth sinking in as a muffled moan escaped her throat.

He growled, cursed, ground against her hips hard, and cursed again.

Ichigo caught her chin, angled her back to continue his assault, thrusting his tongue inside before catching her lower lip between his teeth, grunting.

There was a burst of movement and cold air as he shed the remains of his shirt, unfastening and kicking off his pants. Orihime shivered as she marveled at the bronze skin that came into view with every hurried movement. Hands tingling, legs restless, she could feel the warmth pooling between her legs heighten until the pulse became a physical ache and she moaned.

Orihime began to burn and squirm with impatience, and looked up to see that he had frozen, noticing her carnal look. He watched her writhe, chest heaving and violence igniting in his eyes.

Then he was there, nudging her thighs apart without prelude, leaving her to gasp at the searing of hot, naked flesh contacting hers. Her legs twined around Ichigo's without thought except to get closer, to be flush against every part of him she could touch and she cried out at the brush of his erection against the sensitive nerves slicked by her wetness.

He moved that way, sliding along her entrance with maddening, slow strokes, until she was panting and frantic, tears perched and ready to fall. Then at last, he shifted, kissed her deeply as the tip of his hardness began to press into tender flesh. She stilled, tensing, concentrating on the foreign sensation.

He hissed through his teeth, one hand reaching down to hold her hips steady as he pushed forward slowly, brow furrowed in concentration. She clenched her nails into his shoulders as the discomfort registered and she wiggled, trying to adjust. He seemed to realize her distress, because he lowered his head to whisper reassurances. Then he plunged through.

Orihime gasped, whimpered as hot tears slid from her eyes. It had hurt more than she expected. She bit her lip as Ichigo cursed again, muttering apologies and soothing words, but he couldn't disguise the raw pleasure in his voice or the way his muscles trembled as he fought to remain still.

"Hime?"

"I'm… I'm alright."

Frowning, he pulled back to look at her face.

"You sure?"

But she was already distracted, led off topic by the hard feel of him lodged deeply inside, different than anything she had ever felt. She felt… _completed_. Never had she suspected it would be like this. The pain had gone quickly enough, and in its place the throbbing from earlier twisted from an acute ache to something deeper, fierier.

She needed to _move_. She needed _him_ to move.

She flexed, testing out the feel of him inside her and Ichigo gasped, groaned and began to thrust, starting a rhythm that was forceful but satisfying, and she arched, going stiff, keening and losing her reason. She felt full, stretched to her limit and desperate for more. And he had to know, because he moved faster, straining and shuddering, teeth clenched and fighting an invisible battle against himself.

But she didn't want restraint. Restraint was for a time before, when she lived by the stipulations of others, a mantle of responsibility she didn't want and couldn't escape. Until now. Until Hichigo.

Twisting her legs around his waist, Orihime let her head fall back, hair tangling around her as he thrust, savage and deep, moving faster and faster until there wasn't even a true rhythm, just the desperate need to reach an end, to chase the undeniable need to its limits and further if possible.

Their mutual violence escalated. He grasped her hips and sat back, using them as leverage to slam into her repeatedly. Faster, fully intending to push as far as she would go, and her body buzzed, resonated with the echo of his thrusts driving her closer, farther, harder. She cried out every time he slammed into her core, hitting some burning knot inside her that spun her tighter than a coiled spring, twisting and contracting, ready to break.

The tension was unbearable, pushing her until she wasn't aware of anything but wave after wave savage pleasure, and then she snapped.

Everything came undone.

The tight coil inside burst, and she gasped, keening and sobbing his name into his shoulder as he continued to strain, pounding into her. Her nails clawed into his back, surge after wild surge of bliss flaring in her belly, intensifying with Ichigo's continued effort until she thought she would die with the pleasure.

Orihime panted for air as Ichigo collapsed on her and dug his fingers into her tousled hair, hips driving against hers. Hissing, cursing, groaning, he slammed forward, strained, gasped, and then pulses of heat filled her core, making her gasp in the contrasting sensation.

He slowed, still rocking as if he couldn't quite help himself before finally collapsing on her chest, panting.

They lay there trying to breathe, each too weak to move. She listened to his breathing quiet, broken when he started to chuckle.

With sudden roughness, he scooped her into his arms and rolled over, perching her on his chest. Orihime captured his face between her hands and made him look at her. He gave her a lopsided grin that made her think of all the women she had been so concerned about and pity them.

"I love you, Ichigo or Hichigo or whatever you are."

"…Hichigo?" Ichigo touched her nose with his finger. "That's dangerous. Don't encourage it."

Orihime's lips curved and she took his hand and kissed it. "I don't care."

She recognized the wicked light and dark intent in his answering grin.

"Is that so?"

**A/N**

**Yeah, I was going to make this a cliffy, but with my sporadic updates, I was afraid someone would kill me in my sleep... 0_o**

**And I'm sorry. I know this wasn't my best work, but there were a lot of distractions and in the end, I was just glad to get it done at all. :) Please don't hate me! Even though I wrote sappy things and I hate sappy things… You probably do to, so yeah, I'm not sure where I was going with that.**

**Btw, if you don't hate me at this point, would you mind looking below? Yes, yes. Right down there. Now, you should see the new and improved review system here at ffNet. **

**Super awesome, huh? **

**Go on. You know you want to…**


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: Courting Darkness**

**Warnings: Violence.**

**Authorial Notice:**

**So it's come to my attention that if I ever promise something will be done soon, it most definitely **_**will not**_** be done soon. So I'm going to stop promising to get things done soon and instead just work on them. Sound good? Great!**

Chapter Fifteen

In the kitchen of his townhouse that evening, Ichigo stood, poking and scowling at a pan of sizzling eggs.

Soldier's cuisine, mostly learned from his father. It was the only kind he knew, and wasn't the most fitting meal for a Lady, but after spending most of the night making love, they were starving and only one of them knew how to cook—at least, anything that sounded edible…

Orihime only beamed at his offer before running upstairs to get dressed.

His scowl was chased away by a small smile.

Self-knowledge was a strange thing. It was like nothing in his life had ever quite fit. Everything had been disjointed and ill timed. Until, now. Until, Orihime. When he felt her respond to him, when he realized he loved her, that was when the great misshapen puzzle of his life righted itself, snapping into place with an almost audible definiteness.

He was stupid even thinking it, but it was as though he had finally found the place he belonged. He'd never had that before.

Ichigo prodded strips of meat and glared at them.

_Damn it…_ Why had she kept her feelings for him a secret? Not that he had been honest with her either, but he had happened upon his feelings by accident. And now that he was thinking clearly again, this new realization, what they had done last night, _everything_ only served to magnify his fears for her safety. He had a lot of past that was going to come looking for him someday and that was _if_ they got out of the current problem unscathed.

He flipped eggs onto a plate and set more to cooking. It crackled and spit at him and he blew his breath out.

_What if she came to regret giving herself to him? _

She was too good, too pure for a lowborn street-brat like him. She deserved someone real, a true Lord, not someone that would spend the rest of his life trying to fake it. And she didn't deserve to be stuck with Hichigo, even if she had succumbed to his corrupting charm.

He scrubbed a hand across his forehead, trying to rub away the tension.

"What are you doing to her?" he mumbled, no longer certain if he was talking to himself or the monster inside. "You're taking advantage of her soft heart."

Stabbing at the food, Ichigo tried to image his future. Could he face it without Orihime? He contemplated the next months, the next years without her. They stretched, endless and gray ahead of him.

Ichigo pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes as he grabbed a tray and serving plate, sliding the food out of the pan with a knife.

He was an idiot. Neither of them would _have_ a future if he couldn't get her to tell him who killed Hinamori Momo.

Setting the food and a lamp on the table in the servants' dining room, he chewed a piece of meat while thinking hard. Light footsteps announced Orihime's arrival. She came down the stairs with her hair down, long and silky and thick, hanging over her shoulders.

She stumbled when she noticed him and blushed before the smell reached her, and she sniffed the air. Her face lit at the sight of food.

"Ah! I'm so hungry."

She reached for a slice of meat, but Ichigo snatched the plate out of her reach.

"No food until we settle something."

She blinked and looked back toward the food. "B-but…"

Ichigo watched as her lower lip started to tremble and he frowned. Damn, this was going to be harder than he'd thought.

"Not until you tell me who murdered Hinamori Momo."

Her eyes snapped to his and then she sulked back at him, nose wrinkling.

"Orihime, you have to tell me."

Dropping into a chair, she crossed her arms, cheeks puffing the way a bird ruffled feathers.

He huffed. "I knew you'd get all pissy if I tried to get you to talk."

"Then why attempt it?"

"And now your tongue's getting all etiquetty again."

Ichigo set the plate down, well out of Orihime's reach. He took hold of her chair and twisted it around so that she faced him, and leaned close.

"You're still trying to protect me. Are you going to run off as soon as my back's turned as well?"

She stiffened, but couldn't meet his eyes.

"T-that's a cruel accusation, Kurosaki-kun."

"Kurosaki?"

Orihime swallowed and continued. Or tried.

He grasped her around the waist and tugged her from the chair, catching her chin between his fingers to tilt her face up. He kissed her, long and thorough, until he felt her melt against him without resistance. Only then did he release her.

Breathless, she stared at him with wide eyes.

"You don't get to call me that anymore." Tears formed as he traced her delicate jawbone with his knuckle. His lips twitched into a smile. "Now, do you want to eat or not?"

"B-but… if I tell you, your life will be in danger…"

Blinking, Orihime sniffed, and tried to look away, but he held her chin again, not letting her.

"There's no use protecting me anymore, Hime. You should have realized that once Grimmjow grabbed me. Whoever your enemy is, he knows I've been protecting you. He'll assume I know everything, and it won't matter what we say or don't say. He's going to come for us both. So see, you might as well tell me."

He watched her teal-ringed grey eyes widen until they were big as a child's, comprehending his words.

The kitchen was dark except for the small bit of morning light and the lamp, and the house was silent.

Ichigo lowered his voice and spoke with the soft certainty of a life spent dealing with the lowest, darkest, and most ruthless criminals Tokyo City had to offer.

"I have to end it now, before he kills us both."

"I'm afraid, Lord Kurosaki, that it's already too late."

Ichigo's reaction was instant, and so ingrained it hardly bore thought.

He moved, snatching the knife up from the plate and yanking Orihime behind him as he whirled to face the shadows that detached from the doorway leading to the kitchen.

Orihime clutched the back of his shirt, her whispered, "Please, no..." registering a second later.

One shadow stepped toward them into the light.

He was tall, immaculate, and the expensive suit fit him in a way that suggested careful attention to detail. But it was his expression that caught Ichigo's attention. Calm, collected, confident. And of course, he would be, because in his hand he held an ivory revolver.

Ichigo eyed it with distaste. It was the weapon of someone desiring a quick victory.

"Lady Inoue, such an unfortunate circumstance. I was rather hoping something of this nature could be avoided, but you are nothing if not difficult to predict." The man smiled, the gun never veering from Ichigo's chest. "Now, if you would be so kind."

He held out his opposite hand and Orihime flinched back.

Ichigo didn't move from in front of her, glaring past the gun to study the man behind it. He was money. That much was obvious. Dark hair pushed away from his forehead, one delicate strand left to hang free, and Ichigo's teeth ground at the way the man's eyes followed the shaking girl behind him. Warm and lingering, like he was touching her without actually doing so.

She was terrified. He didn't need to turn around to see it and it set his every protective instinct on edge.

He did his best to push the instant aggression down, not to give anything away. The hand with the knife hung deceptively loose by his side.

When he spoke, his voice was even, a contradiction to the rage filling his chest. "Who the hell are you?"

The man didn't even turn to acknowledge him, merely flicked his eyes over him before addressing Orihime with another fallacious smile. "Wouldn't you prefer to do the introductions, my dear?

Orihime had fisted her hands in his clothes, refusing to look up. Every bit of her radiated fear and Ichigo ached to lash out, just to draw attention to his self and away from her.

He snapped.

"Stop fucking around."

"No? Very well…" Lifting his head, his hot gaze turned and met Ichigo's. "I am Sosuke Aizen, Lord."

Ichigo scoffed, a low, dark chuckle under his breath. No wonder the bastard had been trying so hard to get to her. Information like that, to someone of noble standing... It would be worse than a death sentence, maybe even the kind of disgrace that would require a man to fall on his own sword just to amend it.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes with another humorless laugh. "How embarrassing for you."

A snicker sprang from somewhere behind the tall man that called himself Aizen, one that had Ichigo's gut clenching with recognition and his eyes straining to pierce the darkness.

_Ichimaru.._. _Here_.

The thought of him anywhere close to the vicinity of Inoue had his fingers twitching around the knife, knuckles turning white. Aizen continued without waiting for the other man to move out of the shadows, the slight incline of his head the only indication that he had heard it at all.

"I haven't come for conversation, Kurosaki. Merely to claim something that is already rightfully mine."

Ichigo bristled, his automatic retort that she wasn't property stuck to the back of his tongue. Someone like this, someone who had clearly _always_ been wealthy, wouldn't understand a concept like that. Instead, he looked past him.

"And you, Gin? Why are you here?"

Orihime's hands clenched in his shirt, shaking and cold. "He's the one that… k-killed her."

Ichimaru tilted his head as if seeing her for the first time. "Hmm? Oh, that's right..." Raising a hand and wiggling playful fingers in her direction, Gin grinned. "Been awhile, little wraith. And Hichi…" He shook his head, silver hair falling over shining, barely-cracked bright, blue eyes." I did tell ya that soft side of yours would be the death of you, ne?"

Aizen gestured toward the stairs with the pistol. "Enough, Gin, take the knife. To your bedroom, please, Lady Inoue."

Ichigo guided Orihime ahead of him still watching the man that had trained him. If he knew anything, it was never to turn your back on Ichimaru. His old teacher glided up the stairs behind Aizen, casually tossing and catching the knife, winking when he caught Ichigo's eye.

He felt bile rise in his throat.

"It won't work, Aizen. Her family will want to know why she was killed."

"You mistake me, Lord Kurosaki. My intension isn't to kill Lady Inoue, simply to make it appear so. As for her family, they will have an answer ready at hand. And her murderer." In Orihime's bedroom, Aizen directed Ichigo toward the bed. "Now, please undress, both of you."

Standing beside the bed, Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Aizen.

"Not fucking likely."

"I suggest you consider that I could shoot you now and do what I like with Lady Inoue."

_Bastard_. That's what he was planning anyway.

He didn't voice the thought aloud. She was already frightened enough as it was.

Ichimaru lounged against the wall, silently flipping the confiscated knife up, watching it twirl and flash before he caught it easily. Again and again, the blade twisted in the air. During the lull, Ichigo assessed Aizen. The man had the mild manner of an aristocrat, but his eyes held the light of a lion crouching for the kill.

Ichigo began to unbutton his shirt.

"Ichigo?"

Orihime's voice quivered and the sound of it drug across his nerves like fine razorblades.

He ground his teeth. "Do what he says."

He removed his shirt and began unfastening his pants.

"That's enough," Aizen said. "You next, my dear. Only the top layer."

Orihime was shivering, fumbling with her tie. After a moment, Aizen waved the gun.

"Come away from her, Kurosaki. To the foot of the bed."

As Ichigo complied, Aizen stepped closer to Orihime. Ichigo's fists clenched. If he tried anything, he didn't doubt the man would kill him. That or Ichimaru, who was still lazily flipping the knife, watching as if it were the most interesting of plays.

Ichigo stopped at the end of the bed, watching Aizen and Orihime standing beside it.

He turned her, easing the knot in her obi with practiced movements. Ichigo grit his teeth when Aizen slid the top layer of silk away, rearranging heavy hair to lie over her shoulder and not seeming to mind the audience as his fingers lingered over the nape of her neck. Only the whispered, whirring of the blade behind him kept Ichigo from launching across the room, but he was straining to remember that as his darker emotions began to stir.

"Your aunt has been quite scandalized by the news that you have run off with Lord Kurosaki, Lady Inoue."

"W-what?" Her eyes went wide and she flinched, jerking away to look up at him. "No, she—"

"She will be devastated, I'm afraid . A lovers' quarrel, between the lady and the thief-turned-gentleman. Perhaps you argued over that very thing. After all, what lady would want to spend her life with a thief? Even one as beautiful as Kurosaki."

Ichigo growled.

"You bastard."

"As I said, I haven't come for conversation."

While he was speaking, Aizen had wrapped her top kimono around her hand and before either of them could move, he drew a knife through it. Orihime gasped. She jerked her arm back, the bloodied garment falling to the ground as she cradled her hand.

Ichigo snarled, fully prepared to take a bullet if it meant killing Aizen first. He ducked, coiling to spring up for a throat strike.

Aizen aimed the gun.

Ichigo saw the hammer pull back. He saw one long finger squeezing… _squeezing_…

He wasn't going to make it.

The familiar cold of combat trickled through him, shutting down everything that wasn't necessary while whetting every remaining sense to sharp awareness. Behind him, Gin's knife whistled through the air and he cursed himself for forgetting that white devil for even a second. He wasn't going to stop though. If Gin's blade hit him first, then he would have a weapon to use on Aizen.

Orihime screamed, saying something, he didn't know what. Then light flashed beside his head and he watched as the hilt of a blade sprouted from Aizen's throat.

Ichigo reeled to a stop, shock freezing him for a moment as he watched Aizen fumble for the metal lodged in his neck. Then it passed and he reached up, jerking the blade free, whirling around to lodge it deep into the man's belly.

Aizen rasped, dropped the revolver, and put his hands over his wound. Ichigo sprang back, tightening his fingers to hold the slippery weapon as it slid free. Then he turned on Gin who was still lounging against the far wall.

Slowly, his senses began returning to him, color seeping back into his vision. His chest rose and fell with his harsh breathing. He stared at Gin, wondering why he had yet to move, yet to attack. Orihime was sobbing quietly somewhere behind him, but he filed it away. If they survived, he could take all the time he needed to calm her.

Gin tilted his head, his ill-famed grin stretching his lips.

He tsk'ed, shaking his silver head.

"I still think I could 'a made ya great, kid."

Ichigo didn't say anything, merely watched as Ichimaru stood and stretched.

When Ichimaru turned toward the door, Ichigo frowned.

"That's it?"

Gin paused in the doorway. "I s'pose. Unless ya ever come back to Rukongai. Then, I guess it'd be a problem for me, ne?"

He gave one last wave over his shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving Ichigo to stare after him, as annoyed as Ichimaru always left him.

When he could no longer hear the sound of steps fading through the house, Ichigo sighed and relaxed his grip on the knife, turning to find Orihime and shouting when his gaze fell on her.

"S-Shit!"

She was covered in blood.

Her face was pale, paler than when she had fainted on him and her small body was shaking so hard it was almost violent. Tears streamed down her face and she sobbed as she pressed on the wound in Aizen's belly. Torn strips of silk bound his throat, useless as blood continued to seep out, cold lifeless eyes staring up at her, even in death.

He cursed again, dropping to her side and tugging her hands away.

"Damn it, don't look at it…"

Turning her from the sight, he pressed her forehead against his shoulder and she whimpered, gasping and shaking.

"It's alright, Hime. It's over."

"Oh, K-kami... It—He…" She sagged against him and didn't move.

Alarmed, Ichigo lifted her, carrying her away from the scene to his own room. He laid Orihime on his bed, filled a cold bath and stripped the bloody clothes off her before climbing into the basin with her in his arms.

Orihime gasped as soon as her back touched the chilled water, struggling.

Tightening his grip, he rubbed her arms and back, murmuring what he hoped were comforting words. She turned, found him with startled eyes and latched onto his neck, still shaking.

"He was going to… to kill you!"

"Shh. He's gone now."

"I-I didn't... I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" She was wheezing against his neck, crying again, saying the same words over and over.

Ichigo tried more reassurances, but she didn't even seem to be hearing him and she was shivering. Finally, he stood. Climbing out of the bath, he wrapped her in his blankets and sat leaning against the headboard, his arms still around her, tucking her face into his neck, and squeezed her hard. Her forehead was thrust against his bare skin. He could feel her still shaking, but he waited, letting her cry herself out.

"I—I feel sick."

"Do you need something?" He waited until she shook her head and her arms latched tighter around his neck. He sighed. "Hime, there was no choice. It was that way from the beginning, the moment you saw him in that alley. It was going to be you or him."

"I k-killed him?"

Ichigo growled. "No. He made his own choices. Would you rather be taken who knows where?"

There was a brief silence before she shook her head, sniffing. He pushed her damp hair back, stroking it gently as she mumbled nonsense against his skin until she fell asleep.

Ichigo sighed.

"You're the only one here who _hasn't_ done anything wrong."

He tightened his hold, crushing red-gold strands between his fingers.

_What if she came to regret giving herself to him? _

Was it truly only a few hours ago that he had thought that? Ichigo grit his teeth, wishing more than ever that he had been born as someone else, that he had never been stricken with such a cursed life. It didn't matter what he did or who he pretended to be. His past would chase him down. Always. And as long as it did, it would continue to plague the people he cherished most.

What if she came to regret giving herself to him…? No. That wasn't what should have worried him at all. Maybe _he_ was the one that should regret her giving herself to him.

**A/N**

**Ahh! I'm so sorry! I didn't know he was going to die! Don't kill me!**

**It was gruesome, wasn't it? Sorry, I know a lot of people are squeamish. But okay, only one chapter left. Maybe long, maybe not. Don't know. What do you think? Anything I'm forgetting to tie up? God, I'm so professional, aren't I?**

**Ah ha ha… Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Title: Courting Darkness**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Authorial Notice:**

**A very late birthday present to the ever-awesome Star. Aka, Star Slightly To The Right. I'm sorry it's so late, my dear. Please kick me at your earliest possible convenience. :) Anyways, this was supposed to be out last Thursday, but being the sleep-deprived, retard I am, I lost all my writing in a random fit of stupidity. FML, much?**

**And if you speak French and/or love LotR, I am so, so sorry. I butchered both. Just a bit, mind you. You people may also kick me. If you don't care about either French or LotR, you won't notice a thing. :D Blissful ignorance, ftw!**

()()()

Chapter Sixteen

Orihime stood motionless, waiting as the teal-ringed, gray gaze swept over the mirror's surface, searching.

Her hair, brushed until it shone, caught fire in the light like streams of stunning, burnished copper, pouring over her shoulders. The fiery color contrasted the paleness of smooth, snowy-white skin and pink lips. Layer after layer of rich fabric wrapped around a slight, delicately boned frame, but it was a fragile façade.

Her aunt's luxurious wardrobe should have made her feel like an empress. But it was far closer to being wound in inescapable, silken ropes, chained to a future she didn't want.

Because Ichigo didn't want her.

After everything that transpired. After what happened _between _them... She still fell short.

She had been in a state of shock after Sōsuke's death. That was clear now. And the details of that night were fast becoming hazy, but a few things stood out in vivid detail. Like Ichigo kneeling in front of her while he scrubbed blood from her skin. Sado arriving soon after to aid them. And the kind, old doctor Ichigo had insisted she submit to for an inspection.

Orihime had become sick watching them carry what she realized to be Aizen's body down the stairs, and Ichigo had shoved a glass in her hands, demanding she drink while he kept a close eye on her. Things were unclear after that point as Sado left and returned with more men. Men that cleaned and tidied. Then other men came. All the while, Orihime drank more and more of the bitter liquid that filled her with comforting warmth.

Only once did Ichigo leave her side, and then trusting her into Sado's care, he went to speak with a man she couldn't quite make out, and she drifted to sleep listening to the quiet tones of their deep, rumbling voices.

Finally, in the still, early hours of the morning, Ichigo collected her from the chair she was sprawled over, tucking her close to his side while she babbled from sleep and drink, incoherent, and rambling of anything and everything that came into her mind. However, she was no longer certain of what that'd been.

Ichigo didn't speak much, only bundled her up into his coach, silent as they drove through to daybreak.

She was still in a state of confusion when they exited the vehicle, only to recognize the form of her aunt, standing with a gaggle of servants on the steps to her palatial mansion.

Startled, she turned to Ichigo for answers, but he didn't meet her eyes.

"I…" He stopped, jaw tight and mouth set. Then Ichigo shook his head.

There was the brief sensation of his lips pressed to her forehead, but when she blinked, only his back was visible, disappearing into the night.

He'd left her.

Abandoned her back to a life she wasn't certain she could live in any longer.

In the short span of time she'd known him, Ichigo had changed her world. For a few breathtaking, heart-shattering moments, Orihime's life transformed from one of unrelenting, insipid monotony into something more closely resembling the bright, flickered path of a shooting star.

She shook her head, not even having the energy to laugh at her own foolishness.

Lifting a hand, Orihime pressed it to her cool reflection.

What was it? The thing that made her unlovable. The thing that chased away the people she cared about the most. Her brother. Sōsuke Aizen. Now, Ichigo…

_Where_ was it?

Would she be able to see it if she looked hard enough?

Orihime dropped her hand as a servant knocked on the door.

Forcing a frail smile for the two women that entered, Orihime let her eyes fall as they began their task, one with combs and pins to decorate her hair, the other holding a soft powder puff, dusted with corn silk. After it was brushed over her face, and her eyes and lips were painted, Orihime stood so they could slip the last layer over her kimonos and tie the intricate obi.

She watched them work, pushing every other thought away. There was no use in thinking over things she couldn't change, after all.

Straightening as the women finished and bowed their way out, Orihime left to find her aunt.

She would attend this dinner party. Even if all she really wanted to do was stay in her room and cry. It was important to her aunt, and Rangiku had begged and pleaded until she couldn't refuse. And as Orihime approached the sitting room door, she realized with a sinking feeling that her aunt must had some crafty plot up her sleeve.

But what could it be?

Surely, Aunt Matsumoto wouldn't try foisting Orihime off onto a suitor so soon after she'd returned.

Although, it had long since passed the point when she was shocked by the schemes the older woman could formulate in her conspiring mind. But perhaps she was overthinking the matter. Her aunt had been unusually subdued since Orihime's homecoming.

To an uncanny degree.

Orihime had expected Aunt Rangiku to make a fuss, to demand Orihime tell her where she had been, or at the very least, try to swindle all the gossipy details, but there was not a word of the time Orihime had spent in the slums missing and possibly dead.

Orihime was going to have to revise her estimate of Ichigo's sway, especially if even Rangiku had been subdued. That alone should attest to the scope of influence he had when he chose to administer—

She stumbled to a stop.

_No.._. What was she doing thinking of him?

It would only prolong her heartache to continue on this way. Spending every waking moment pouring over their time together… It was the essence of foolishness.

Orihime paused before the door to her aunt's quarters, shaking her head, determined to clear it before she faced Aunt Matsumoto.

"Enter…" Came the sultry voice when Orihime knocked.

Stepping over the threshold, she looked around for the source, but didn't see anyone.

"Aunt?"

"In here."

Moving toward the dressing room, Orihime found her aunt, fresh from her bath and ordering maids about, clad in nothing but her own skin.

Orihime smiled a bit. _This_ she had missed. It had been quite a shock when she'd first come to live with her aunt, but now… She sighed, taking a seat out of the way of the flurry of kimonos.

"Those colors are magnificent on you, Hime. It's almost a shame. No one will be looking at me," Rangiku pouted then flashed a teasing grin before turning back to the procession of her wardrobe. "What do you think…" She reached out and turned two maids to face Orihime. "Sapphire or French rose?"

"They're both pretty, Aunt."

Aunt Matsumoto eyed her. "Hmm…"

Many people assumed that because Rangiku Matsumoto was beautiful she must also be brainless.

They were wrong.

Her aunt could read the emotions of a stone wall with accuracy. And Orihime knew she saw straight through her pretense.

Orihime looked away.

"I'll wear the pink, _Isane_. And you may leave, Orihime will help me dress."

"Yes, lady."

Orihime stood as the maids left, moving to do as she was bid. Gathering the garments, she slipped them one by one up Rangiku's arms, layering and smoothing them flat.

"He must have been something."

"W-what…?"

"To have you so wound up." Her aunt paused from watching the mirror to give her an unimpressed look. "Do you think I've never been in love? I know the signs. There's no reason to pretend, Orihime." She smiled. "He was quite attractive."

"Aunt!" Her face flamed and she turned away under the guise of gathering another layer. "I… It isn't—" Orihime swallowed. "Even if I were… in l—" Pain flared in her chest and her throat ached with the beginning of tears she couldn't stop. "I'm here. So it hardly matters, does it?"

A hand rested on her shoulder before Rangiku's arms came around her as Orihime choked on a sob. "Silly girl, love always matters."

"B-but he doesn't want me…"

Her aunt pulled back, holding Orihime at arm's length before she smiled at her in the mirror. Grinned really.

"The night brings many things," she quoted, her smile never faltering.

()()()

"Please allow me to present my niece, Lady Inoue Orihime."

Orihime stared at the man, and it was only now she realized she might have paid better attention as her aunt went over the guest list. She looked to Rangiku's smiling face before turning back to blink at Urahara Kisuke.

_The_ Urahara Kisuke.

She'd seen him from afar before at public affairs, but never so close. Certainly not close enough to make out the enigmatic sparkle that lit playful gray eyes.

Orihime could only gape as he bowed to her.

"Ah, the Lady Inoue, at last. I'm pleased to see you're in good health. I've been hearing quite a few charming things about you."

He smiled, his gaze warm, voice teasing.

She didn't know what to say.

This man was Ichigo's connection to the emperor. She'd seen the correspondences herself when she'd searched Ichigo's bedroom. But what could he be doing here now? Was he simply a guest? If so, this was merely a chance meeting and she should work to calm her racing heart before this man thought she was mentally inept.

But… But he didn't seem to mind that she was staring, because he was staring right back. Still smiling, his eyes felt as if they were taking in more than the casual observer could imagine. Or dare.

She wanted to squirm until her aunt rescued her with a chastising purr.

"Urahara-sama, you're being rude..."

"So I am, Lady Rangiku." He laughed. Perhaps a bit too loud, breaking contact and turning to acknowledge the female beside him that Orihime hadn't yet noticed. "Allow me to present my companion Belle Chatte des Ents, Comtesse de Forêt Fangorn."

Orihime inclined her head to the elegant, purple-haired woman that stepped forward, the gesture thoughtless until she noticed to whom she was bowing. Because as she lifted her head, Orihime looked up to meet the twinkling eyes of Yoruichi Shihōin.

She straightened, drawing a deep breath. "_You… _But—"

"The lady has only just arrived from her chateau in Mirkwood."

Beside him, Yoruichi arched a brow. Aiming a cutting look, she drew a breath to—

"And unfortunately, she doesn't speak a word of Japanese."

Yoruichi's mouth snapped shut and she glared at the man beside her as Orihime continued struggling to make sense of Urahara's words.

She shook her head and frowned. "Mirkwood? But that isn't anywhere near Fangorn…" Realization struck and she gasped. "You're a spy—"

"Oh, Lady Inoue," Urahara sang. "What an imaginative mind you have. But as I said, the Comtesse has only recently arrived. She's an emissary to the emperor, you see, specializing in… _insurance_ matters. "

"But—"

Rangiku's shrill call drowned out her next protest and she turned to find her aunt waving from across the room. Turning back, Orihime found that Urahara and Yoruichi had moved away, leaving her puzzled, standing alone with no choice but to follow Aunt Matsumoto's direction.

The rest of the night was spent in a daze. She kept glancing at the alleged 'comtesse', who seemed to have changed her rank, nationality, and language all in one go. Urahara hadn't said as much, but Orihime was certain her earlier assumption was right. Yoruichi didn't belong to the French aristocracy, and for that matter, she had never truly intended to be courted by Ichigo either.

To that end, Orihime tried to corner the woman, but the lady eluded her every attempt. And with an elusive smile, Yoruichi uttered her farewells in perfect French in an accent so charming the other lords and ladies stopped talking to look. Then she took her leave of Aunt Matsumoto, gave Orihime one last cunning smile, and vanished.

Orihime slumped into a chair, preoccupied with the mystery until it was time for the formal leave taking.

Kisuke Urahara was the last of a long line and Orihime found him chatting with her aunt. When she joined them, he smiled and nodded.

"And here she is. Excellent. Shall we retire to a more private setting?"

The lord took Aunt Matsumoto by the arm and proceeded to the sitting room without once asking for direction. Mystified, Orihime took a seat as they entered and waited for Urahara to do the same.

Her aunt glided to the floor, leaning forward towards their guest until Orihime was worried her chest would spill free. "Lord Urahara, I cannot tell you how thrilled I was when you requested an invitation to our little affair tonight. Do I guess correctly when I say you must have a little communication to deliver from some exulted personage?"

She turned and winked at Orihime who could do nothing but gawk. Her aunt was chirping in her excitement. There was no other word for it.

"You do indeed, lady." Urahara pulled a thick packet from his clothing. "I am here to make a proposal on behalf of Lord Kurosaki Ichigo."

Orihime's heart jabbed sharply at the mention of Ichigo's name.

A proposal?

Oh…

A _proposal_.

Orihime took a moment to thank providence she was sitting, because now she understood.

Tears stung her eyes, but she pushed them back with deep breaths. That's why he sent her away. So that he could save her reputation and honor, and everything would be done properly. But he could have at least told her… The last week had been utter torture.

"A wedding!" Aunt Matsumoto was almost dancing in her seat, laughing and gripping at Orihime's arm. She hardly heard it.

A proposal. He wanted to… to marry—

"Ah, no. I'm afraid you are mistaken."

Her heart, which hadn't settled, gave a different sort of unpleasant jolt as pain flared.

Her aunt stilled, voice suddenly frosty. "I don't understand, Lord Urahara. Did you or did you not say that you have come to make a proposal on behalf of Lord Kurosaki."

"Yes… but perhaps that was a poor choice of words. You see, Lord Kurosaki wishes to deliver a sum to Lady Inoue so that she may become independent and free to choose her own fate." He leaned forward and placed the papers into Orihime's hands. "Here is the legal documentation, the bank draft, as well as a letter of reference to my own solicitor. This money is to be yours entirely with no conditions attached to it."

He nodded to her in encouragement, and with numb fingers, she opened the paper.

Zeros swam before her eyes.

She drew a quick breath and closed it, continuing to stare.

Ichigo had thought the situation out well. Had provided her with the solution to her every problem. With this much money, Orihime could do anything she liked. Never again would she be an outcast. No one would dare shun her with so much wealth at her disposal. She could dance naked at Aunt Matsumoto's next cherry festival for all it would matter. No one would say a word.

She could move to America. She could move to the moon.

Urahara had flicked out a small fan in her moment of silence and was grinning over the top at her.

"I can see you're just as shocked as I was. It's a hefty sum, to be sure!" Then his eyes took on a different light. "You must take care to avoid people that would use it to their own gain. It would pay many gambling debts, don't you think?"

He looked like he would say more, but after taking in her dazed countenance, he snapped his fan shut and stood with another large smile. "Well, I must be going. The government isn't going to run itself. Or it might. Either way, it's never a good thing."

Rising, he bowed to Rangiku, who failed to return his smile as he made his way toward the door.

"Urahara-san?" Orihime's lips trembled as she clenched the papers in her hands.

"Hmm… Yes?"

"Is this his way of getting rid of me?" Orihime stood, hands curling tightly, no longer able to hold back the hot tears in her eyes. She knew what she was feeling now. "He doesn't want to marry me, so he'll purchase me a husband instead."

He blinked. "I assure you, Lady Inoue, it was meant for the best. He would like to see that you're well protected."

"Yes, well…" She swiped at the streams of tears, grasping the papers in one hand and holding them back to him without looking up. "Please tell Lord Kurosaki that he can keep his money. I'm very good at going away. I don't need to be paid to do it."

Stepping past him, she fled to the door, wanting nothing more than to hide. To escape people who took so much stock in money that they threw it at any problem like a bucket brigade dousing flames with water.

Only she stopped at the last moment. "Wait... No."

Hadn't she learned anything? Hadn't she run enough? And there was the sinking feeling that if she ran from him now, she would never stop. His ghost would follow after her for the rest of her life.

"I…I should do it myself." She hesitated, then moved to take the papers back. "Can you tell me where he is?"

Urahara's grin returned full force.

"What an excellent idea. Lord Kurosaki has returned to Karakura Castle. Please feel free to take my carriage."

()()()

Orihime drove under the great stone gates of Karakura castle, looking up at the sky soaring above them.

It had taken her the entire night to arrive. She was sore, _exhausted_, but she was finally here. However, instead of feeling relief at having reached her destination, the closer to the castle she travelled, the wearier she became.

The sky grew dark and charcoaled with an approaching storm, but she'd hardly noticed it, trapped in her preoccupied thoughts.

Now it could no longer be ignored.

The wind whipped across the front lawn, tearing the blossoms from trees as it passed. A gardener piled tools in a cart, and elsewhere a groom wrestled a horse waiting by the doors. Servants of all stations scurried in haste to finish outdoor work and prepare for the storms' arrival before taking refuge inside.

As the carriage pulled to the front hall, Orihime was leaning toward the window, and saw Yuzu hurrying down the front stairs waving toward the groom holding the horse and litter. She stopped when she saw the carriage before her face lit with recognition.

Hurrying around the side, she was there when Orihime exited. "Orihime-nee, you came back!"

"Yes… Is he here?"

"He's here, but I can't say it's going well."

Having taken her hair down along the journey, it flew in all directions as soon as Orihime stepped out. She fought to keep it from her face. "I'm sorry I didn't send ahead, but it's important—"

"I know."

"You know?"

"Brother's been in an awful mood."

Orihime stiffened at the news, looking toward the castle, torn between concern and hope.

Yuzu took her by the arms, shaking a bit and having to shout to be heard over the wind. "He can't go an hour without mentioning your name, but he won't listen to daddy or me, or even Karin. He's making himself miserable." Yuzu's cheeks puffed, brows drawing down as she waved a finger in Orihime's face. "And you can't be any better off!"

Stunned, Orihime forgot to hold her hair and it blew into her face before Yuzu shoved it away.

"You love him, don't you?"

Orihime swallowed and nodded. Yuzu smiled, grabbing her arm and pulling her across the drive.

"I knew you did. That's what I kept saying! I mean, he's trying to do the right thing, but how is this the right thing if it makes you both unhappy?"

Yuzu wrenched open the front door and gave her a push inside, and she stumbled as the force of the wind abruptly left.

"And don't let him scare you away. He'll do it if you let him, but just ignore it. That always works best. Good luck, Orihime-nee!"

And with that she found the door shut in her face.

A throat cleared behind her and she spun.

"Oh, Sado-kun." She bit her lip, shifting feet, feeling like an uninvited guest. Which she was. "You're back too."

He grunted in acknowledgment, but it seemed friendly enough. Encouraged, Orihime stepped away from the door.

"Is… Do you know where Lord Kurosaki is?"

"In his office."

"His office?"

"Yes, lady."

He bowed but didn't say anything else, so Orihime took it as her cue and began toward Ichigo's office. Her apprehension doubled the closer she drew to her destination. What if Yuzu was wrong? And Aunt Matsumoto.

What if Ichigo just wanted to be rid of her?

But it was better to know now than to wonder forever, wasn't it? That depended on the answer.

Orihime forced herself to keep walking down the hall and then up the stairs. The fear nagged at her heels and she couldn't stop the whispering voice of doubt that took up residence in the back of her mind.

She was almost certain he hadn't pretended the love he'd shown in his house in Tokyo.

But he could have. He was Hichigo, the legendary thief. A master at manipulation. He could deceive anyone, had been trained to do just that.

Why would he though? There was no reason to deceive her.

Nothing, except the thing he'd been after the entire time. He been trying to seduce Orihime since they'd met. And what did she really know of a man that had been forced to do the things he had?

But that couldn't have been the reason. He'd wanted her love, not just her body.

But then why offer her money?

Orihime stopped at his office door and stared at the golden fifteen emblazoned on the doorplate, reaching out to trace it with her index finger.

There was only one way to get the answers she needed, and it wasn't to stand here arguing with herself.

Gathering her courage, Orihime pushed open the door—and stepped into the sky.

There was no other way to describe it.

The ceiling of his office had been repainted in a dazzling cerulean, but the painter hadn't stopped there. The color extended down the walls, touching everywhere but the carved wooden pillars that held the beams running across the ceiling. And the chandelier that was suspended over his desk had moved. It used to be off to one side, but now the room had been reordered and it hung directly in the center. The glow it cast threw rainbows and clusters of light over the walls. It looked like a miniature sun, lit with a thousand tiny crystals.

The shock of the change startled her, but it was short lived.

Ichigo stood looking out one of the windows, a deep scowl etched over his face. His dark suit contrasted against the paint like a black void and his mood didn't seem any better.

And he still looked so devastatingly handsome that it stole her breath.

Orihime hesitated, remebering that she'd just spent the night in a carriage and her hair was tousled, and her cheeks flushed from the wind, and her once luxurious kimonos were likely wrinkled, but before she could rethink her haste and escape, Ichigo turned.

She watched as he froze, regarding her with an impassive gaze, like he expected her to be nothing more than a half-formed dream.

Orihime waited, distracted by the way the light turned his hair into a dozen different shades and contrasts, aching to touch it before the moment shattered.

He frowned, eyes narrowing as he stalked across the room. "What are you doing here?"

Pain lanced her chest at his harsh words, but she refused to show it.

She had her answer. He wasn't glad to see her.

Straightening her shoulders, Orihime held out the papers.

"Why did you do this?"

Ichigo drew to a sudden stop, glancing at the papers and then up to her face and finally, away. He locked his jaw and didn't answer.

"Are you… paying me to go away?"

His head snapped around, eyes narrowing, serious enough that she could see the dark thief simmering just below the surface. "No."

"Then you pity me."

"No," he said, louder.

"Then I don't understand."

His fragile inactivity snapped and he growled, shoving a hand through his hair. "That's just it. You _don't_ understand. You don't know half the things I've done or who I've done them to."

"But I-I don't care about that."

He looked incredulous. "What?"

"I don't care who you were. I know who you are… and I love you. I didn't mean to do it, but it's true."

She could hardly hold his eyes to say it, but she managed, watching as Ichigo shook his head, anger and sorrow mixing in his gaze.

"You say it like this should be such an easy thing. You could have died—" He stopped, teeth grinding, eyes turning hard. "How long do you think it will be before my past comes fucking tearing our door down? This isn't the life for you. You're…" He waved a hand. "Fucking hell, Orihime. You deserve better than that." He paced, no longer seeming able to contain it. "I didn't even know how to order the damn tea before you showed up. I'm not some gently bred, well-mannered, snob. What are you going to do? Marry a fucking thief? A fake lord?"

"Yes!" Orihime clamped a hand over her mouth, startled by her own outburst.

Silence filled the room as they stared at each other. Orihime with tears at the verge of falling and Ichigo simply frozen in disbelief.

"You would marry me?"

Dropping her hand, she nodded.

"Then… you will?"

"Yes."

She gasped when he grabbed her, the movement so quick, she'd almost not seen it before she was crushed against him. He captured her mouth the same way, initiating the kiss by tilting her head back, thumbs pressing under her jaw, gentle but undeniable.

He overpowered her tongue with his, a fiery onslaught, ravaging her mouth before he gathered himself and gentled it. His hands slipped up to cup her face, taking from her lips, both tender and fierce. He was relentless until she became too dizzy to stand on her own and then Ichigo supported her with one arm tight around her waist.

He released her mouth, but rained kisses down her neck then back up, stopping at her ear.

"Are you sure? There are parts of me…"

His breath tickled the fine hair of her neck and she shivered. "Yes. I'm sure."

Ichigo brushed her lips with the tips of his fingers as she spoke, as though he didn't believe his eyes could be trusted. "Then you have to go back."

"What? No…"

She tried to pull away, but he didn't let her. He tapped her nose.

"A few scrapes in Rukongai and you're ready to forget your reputation even exists?"

Oh. Her ridiculous reputation.

"But—"

"No, listen, Orihime. It's more than just us. It has to be done right. Think of our children."

She drew a breath. "Our…" She swallowed, smiled, laughed. Then finally, Orihime nodded, swiping tears before they could fall, still lightheaded with joy. "Alright, I'll go, but… but only if you give me back my book."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Let me get it."

"Where is it?"

Looking down, he grinned at her. "Where else? The library."

"The library?" She gazed up at his still smiling face. "But…But— You mean it was there the entire time?"

"Funny, huh? If you had spent less time spying on me and going through my things—"

"You knew about that?" Orihime flushed at his blasé look.

"You're not quite as sneaky as you seem to think."

He took her hand, leading Orihime out the door and to the stairs, snorting at her pouting face.

"Don't worry," he said. "It's a good excuse to get you alone up there."

.

.

.

_Fin._

A/N

Blah! I still can't do the super sweet romantic scenes… I'm sorry it's so terrible!

Well, I hope you enjoyed this. Especially, this final chapter that had to be written _twice_. It's about fifty hours of my life you just read, and it probably only took you twenty or thirty minutes. How sad is that? :)

Ah… review?


End file.
